Resonance
by Mendeia
Summary: Rated T for safety. Mutants and scientists and villains - oh my! When Donatello's curiosity gets the better of him, friendships are forged, an enemy strikes, and the strength of two families is tested.
1. First Contact

So, this is an idea that's been rattling around my brain for a long while. There are so many different crossovers you can do with TMNT, given that NYC is so often a setting for different series, and that the TMNT cannon allows for aliens, magic, alternate dimensions, you name it! So, I decided to run with it.

For context, the TMNT side of this is placed within the 2003 cartoon, right after the "Good Genes" arc and before the "Ninja Tribunal" arc – as if there were several months between Don getting well and the turtles being pulled into the NT season. The Godzilla: The Series universe is a little more complicated. I have been given permission by the awesome author Macx to use the "Deep Water" universe, but I have decided to eliminate the OC, Jeff O'Neal, to keep things simpler. If you haven't read "Deep Water" or "Gambit" or all the one-shots in between, you should! But what you really need to know to understand this story will be made clear as we go.

I don't own either TMNT or Godzilla – they are the property of corporations with big scary lawyers and I'm just me. But I am borrowing them for the purpose of entertainment. No disrespect is intended, and no profit is gained.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was a well-established fact that any time the phrase "like a moth to a flame" could be applied to Donatello, trouble was not far behind. Certainly all four of the ninja brothers had their interests, things that drew them and piqued their curiosity. But somehow Leo's fascination with Bushido, Mikey's video games, and even Raphael's unending search for freedom just never matched up to the chaos of Donnie's own pursuits. The "brainiac" turtle never sought anything that was obviously harmful to his family, of course, but he did investigate the unusual, the challenging, and the complicated, and these things, combined with technology and the turtles' famous luck, always spelled disaster.

In this instance, however, it was only a surprise that Donatello had held off so long.

"For the last time, Don, it's too dangerous!" Leo crossed his arms and glared.

"First of all, I know the risks. Second of all, I don't intend to get anywhere near him. And third of all, the possible benefits far outweigh the danger," Donnie stated calmly, not budging an inch before his elder brother. Beneath the logic and reason of his argument, however, the purple-clad turtle was tingling with scientific interest. How could Leo deny him the right to study perhaps the most important mutant in the world and the closest thing the turtles had to an ancestor besides Leatherhead? Not to mention a shot at deepening their knowledge of their own DNA?

"You've only been well for a little while, though. Are you sure you're up to something like this?"

"Of course I am, Leo. Even Leatherhead and Master Splinter cleared me for training again."

"Then you won't mind if we come with you," the leader of the brothers replied.

"Yes, I do mind. Do you remember the last time I trusted you guys with any of my equipment? Or even trusted you just to stay out of my way while I handled it?"

"Dude, that was totally not my fault!" came a petulant voice from across the room. "When are you gonna let that go?"

"When you prove you're not a doofus," Raphael put in, helpfully bopping Mikey on his domed head.

"My point exactly," Donatello said, meeting Leonardo's eyes again. "You don't want me doing this more than once, and the only way to cut down the number of excursions is to make sure I get everything I need on the first try. Without anyone helpfully breaking any of my instruments."

"What about April, then? At least you'd have some backup in case anything went wrong, and she wouldn't mess up your gadgets."

"She's taking Casey to visit her family, and you know it."

"Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you're seen? Or, shell, Donnie, caught in the crossfire?"

"Which part of 'ninja' are you not taking into account here?" Donatello countered a bit sharply.

"Drop it Leo," Raph advised, coming to stand beside the other middle turtle. "You're not gonna win this one."

Donatello smiled at him thankfully. He shouldn't have been surprised. After all, if any of the others could understand the thrill of the risk that made this trip more than a scientific outing, it would be Raphael. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that his own fascination with the subject was somewhat shared by his red-clad, rebellious brother.

"There's nothing I can say that will convince you?" the eldest turtle sighed in resignation.

"Not really. Sorry Leo." Shouldering his bag, Donatello finally walked past the obstacle that had kept him in the lair the last fifteen minutes, feeling excitement starting to bounce in his step. "I'll be back soon."

Mikey looked up from his movie marathon for a moment, before yelling at his retreating brother, "Say hi to Godzilla for me!"

--==OOO==--

Though each of the turtles knew New York City backwards and forwards, not only the streets but the sewers and the rooftops, there were areas they just didn't frequent. Some, like Times Square, were due to the sheer number of people around – not a good thing for mutants trying to lie low. Some, like the quiet brownstone districts that were purely residential, held no interest for them. And some, like Staten Island, they avoided for other reasons.

An ear-splitting roar thundered through the air as Donatello threw himself nimbly behind some crates to take shelter in the long shadows of dusk. But no amount of ninja training could prevent the gasp of wonder that escaped him as something enormous rose up from the water only half a mile away.

Godzilla was beautiful. Perhaps not to the un-scientifically minded – Mikey had declared him the world's ugliest creature except for Raphael – but to one purple-banded mutant turtle, he was the pinnacle of what science, evolution, and the magic of chance could create. Shaped more like the T-Rex of prehistoric times than any modern lizard, Godzilla was an improvement upon the dinosaurs in every way. His forelegs were strong and flexible, almost like human arms; he could move easily at varying speeds including a blinding-fast sprint; he breathed a type of radioactive fire like a dragon or wyvern; and yet he was intelligent and self-aware, too. Of course, very few humans believed as much – the very few who spoke of him even vaguely complimentarily mostly considered him a nuisance until some monstrous thing appeared that needed a massive exterminator. But Donatello had been studying him long enough from afar to see much that the public would never know of their hometown miracle.

"Wow," the turtle breathed, craning his neck to take Godzilla in from head to toe. Though they lived in the same city, none of the turtles had ever been this close to Godzilla before. Partly it was through Leo's caution; as leader, it was his job to make sure none of his brothers got eaten or fried by giant lizards. And partly it was because, as mutations themselves, the brothers had never wanted to risk exposure by getting close to something so obvious, something regularly dogged by military copters, official personnel, and the press. But today was different.

"I'm so glad I found that network," Don smiled to himself, his mind glorying in discovery while he took dozens of photos, distance-readings and a dozen other measurements on his equipment. A week ago, while researching Godzilla, the genius had stumbled onto the merest whiff in cyberspace of a secured network within his search parameters, and after a day or so of intense hacking against some extremely impressive security, he had broken into a veritable treasure-trove of information. Definitely a first-rate computer whiz, even if they did have an odd sense of humor, given some of the warnings he'd encountered and ignored. Whoever was keeping these notes had intimate knowledge of the beast, his chemistry, his habits, and most importantly, his lair. Armed with this, the turtle knew he could approach a secluded area away from the usual entourage of attention and observe Godzilla safely, and thus his study began.

"If I can just get enough data on Godzilla, maybe I can use it the next time something happens to one of us," Donatello muttered as he switched gadgets while keeping an eye on his quarry. "I'm sure there's something I can learn from his biology that I could apply to our genetic makeup. But to do that, I think I need a sample."

The turtle took about 45 seconds to think over the lecture he would get from Leonardo if his brother ever found out what he intended to do. Even worse if Master Splinter found out. But Donatello was determined. After the very recent outbreak virus had caused him to mutate into something primal, carnal, mindless, it had shown both Donnie and Leatherhead that they simple did not know enough about their own DNA. The one thing Donatello would give anything to prevent was a repeat of that scenario – they might not be so lucky in finding a cure next time, and they certainly were not about to go back to Agent Bishop for it. He swallowed the familiar lump of guilt for what he had put his family through for his sake. So, if the risk meant a chance that could win him the knowledge to save his brothers if such a thing ever happened again, he was willing to do just about anything to take it.

Carefully and precisely, Donatello stowed all of his equipment in his bag, each in its very particular place for maximum efficiency and protection against damage should the bag be shaken around in the course of movement, leaving only one in his hands. It was a little metal thing about the size of the cardboard tube inside a roll of paper-towels, but it was one of his niftiest gadgets yet. By flicking a button, it extended to a narrow, tapering 20-foot pole with a sharp metal piece on the end. Hopefully he could just use it to swipe some skin samples from where Godzilla had been instead of actually getting in range of the creature, but if worse came to worst, at least this would give him a fraction of a margin for error.

"All right, here we go," Donnie breathed as he moved silently from his hiding place towards where the massive creature stood. It appeared that Godzilla had exited the water near an old dock of some kind and was rooting around the area. As the turtle approached, he could hear the telltale mumble of conversation, so he quickly switched tactics and took to the rooftops. Drawing as near as he dared, Donnie flattened himself on a building overlooking the dock area and peeked over the edge, listening intensely.

"It looks like he's healing up fine after that last encounter," came the voice of a woman with long, fiery red hair. She was standing disturbingly close to Godzilla, shining a bright flashlight on a portion of scales on one leg that had definitely been recently burned. "Do you think you can get him to let you examine his eye?"

"I'll try," answered a young man, the one Donatello recognized from the news as Dr Nick Tatopoulos, something of an expert on certain types of mutations. To Donatello's astonishment, the doctor stepped even closer to Godzilla, speaking more than shouting, "Come on down, big guy." His voice was even, confident, and almost coaxing, in spite of speaking barely loudly enough to be heard several stories up.

Snuffling a puff of air that could send a helicopter off-course, the mutant slowly lowered his head, his whole body curling into a crouch just yards from Dr Tatopoulos. And when the man laid an expert hand on his enormous snout, Godzilla let out a soft wuffling noise that was almost a purr. Donnie's eyes went wide at the incredible degree of comfort this man had with one of the most aggressive, dangerous, territorial creatures on earth.

"All right, just let me take a look, Godzilla." His voice was still that steady tone, even as he used some of Godzilla's jaw-ridges to climb halfway up his head. "Looks like it's healing okay, Elsie. Hand me that disinfectant."

The redhead took hold of a gallon jug with a spray-nozzle fastened on the front and cautiously approached. However, she stopped as soon as Godzilla's bright eye opened and turned fully on her.

"Um, why don't you come get it?"

"Elsie, he won't hurt you," Dr Tatopoulos said chidingly as he jumped easily from his perch to take the jug from her.

"Let's just call it me being respectful of his personal space," she replied.

"Hey guys!" came a new voice. Donatello looked for its source but from his position could not see where it was coming from. "We got something coming across from the insurance company. Come check it out!"

Perplexing as those words were, the turtle was even more confused when both individuals below moved rapidly towards a ferry-building at the water's edge without hesitation. Godzilla raised his head seemingly questioningly, then lumbered almost gracefully to his feet. A few moments after the humans were out of sight, Donatello saw the giant creature swing his head around, as though searching the area. Then his breath froze and caught in his stomach.

Godzilla was staring at him.

Every impulse in Donatello's body was suddenly torn in half between bolting at top speed and shrinking into his shell. But everything in the turtle's mind was saying something else, and after a tortuous few moments of waiting to be incinerated, he trusted those instincts instead. Very, very slowly, he got to his feet, making no sudden moves and keeping his body as relaxed as possible.

"He didn't hurt those people, and he won't hurt me," he told himself firmly, hoping it to be true. When he was standing at his full height, he waited.

Godzilla, eyes locked intently on him, took a few steps forward until he was close enough that Donatello could almost feel the moisture still dripping steadily from his recent emersion in the ocean. Hot breath washed over his face, but the turtle stood still. All his knowledge told him that Godzilla was a predator, and if he ran, he would look like prey. "Besides," he thought ruefully, "I could never run fast enough anyway."

Donatello lifted his head a little more and met Godzilla's gaze. There was something in the bright eyes of the creature that stirred the ninja's heart. It was like when the turtles had first encountered Leatherhead – a sense of kindred belonging. Removed as he was, Godzilla was as near a relation as they would ever find on earth, and he was, perhaps, the best of them all.

Donnie was so lost in his amazement that he never heard the step ascending the rooftop behind him, never heard the tiny sound of a gun cartridge clicking into place. He only felt the sudden, sharp prick of a dart on his arm. Turning in alarm, adrenaline fighting the force of a powerful sedative, he saw a figure moving towards him. Donatello drew his bo, but the drug working through his system made him slow and awkward. Another dart struck near the first and he crumpled.

The last thing he saw before enforced darkness crept over him was a glowing, intense eye.

--==OOO==--

"Dude, chill out!" Michelangelo advised. "I'm getting tired watching you pace like that."

"Something's not right. Donnie said he'd be back soon, he's not answering his Shell Cell, and it's been hours."

"He's probably just caught up in the geek-dom of seeing Godzilla up close," Raphael commented, shrugging. But Leo noticed his brother turn back to the punching bag and smack it tensely; apparently, he wasn't the only one who was worried.

"No. Something's happened. I can feel it. We need to check it out," Leonardo decided, the twisting in his stomach only getting worse with every passing minute. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts when it came to his family, and right now, they were telling him his brother needed help.

"I agree," came the serene voice of Master Splinter. "Donatello would never leave us in such worry for so long, especially after recent events. Go and find him, my sons. And come back safely, all of you."

"If you say so!" Mikey grinned, bouncing off the couch and joining the other two. "It's not like I'm going to pass up the chance to see the G-Man up close!"

"If that's what it takes, then all right," Leo agreed, leading the way out of the lair. "I'm just hoping that isn't what got Don in trouble in the first place."

As they made their way out of the lair and towards the Battleshell, Michelangelo chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously when his brothers weren't looking. In spite of his laughing words, he was worried. He hadn't really thought about it before, but maybe Leo had been right. Maybe letting Donatello go alone to see Godzilla had been a bad idea. Would he have had the chance to call for help if he needed it? What did giant mutant lizards eat anyways? Hopefully not turtles. Mikey's stomach turned. Maybe Don was just late. That had to be it. Anything else was more than he wanted to consider.

--==OOO==--

"I've never seen anything like it," Nick said admiringly as he looked over the prone body. "It's definitely a mutation, but unlike anything we've ever encountered."

"What do you mean?" Mendel Craven was busily rooting through the tote-bag that had been on their visitor, taking inventory of everything he found. "What makes this one different other than the luggage? Although generally we don't see them sized like this – usually they're either microscopic or giant."

"Though much smaller than most of the ordinary mutations we have…dealt with, how many of them have carried weaponry?" Monique asked pointedly. She had refused to stand down even after being assured that the creature could not possibly break the restraints, training her tranquilizer gun on it expertly. The mutant's staff weapon was behind her, and she stole an appraising glance at it again. Well-used and perfectly balanced, and what she had seen of the creature's stance before the powerful dart had forced it into unconsciousness had belied training, knowledge, and thinking. In other words, a supremely dangerous possibility.

"Isn't 'ordinary mutant' an oxymoron, kinda like 'jumbo shrimp' or 'military intelligence?" Randy asked. At the withering look from Monique and a muttered comment about "moron indeed," he shrugged, then went back to the laptop that had been in the bag. Somebody had hacker-proofed it but good.

"Some first-rate equipment here," Elsie said, looking over Mendel's shoulder. "Some of this stuff is on par with ours, even if it's built a little differently."

"How so?" Nick asked.

"Well, take this, for example," Mendel waved a gadget. "We have one just like it, but the keypad on this one is much bigger and wider than ours."

"Built for thicker fingers," Nick nodded, pointing at the mutant's hands.

"Are you telling us this thing built equipment better than Mendel's?" Randy asked.

"I said it was like ours, not better!"

"Whatever."

"Cowabunga!"

"Cowa-what?" Mendel squawked, looking at his prized piece of robotics equipment, whose head was now rollicking back and forth as it finished computing. "Randy, what did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything! Can I help it if NIGEL is continuing his eternal search to find some personality? He certainly won't get any from you!" he hacker retorted.

"Leaving that aside, what did NIGEL find?" Elsie interrupted the old argument. While Mendel fumed, Nick bent over the analytical screen.

"According to this, we've got a male mutant terrapin on our hands, created not by nuclear radiation, but something else." Nick felt himself growing more and more interested with everything he read and saw – whatever this was, this turtle was no mindless beast. In fact, it was intriguingly human. And if the figures in front of him were to be believed, possibly quite intelligent.

A moan brought all five individuals from their various activities to the creature bound in their midst.

"It's coming around," Monique said, waving the others back and readying her weapon. While Mendel and Randy obeyed and Elsie threw the Frenchwoman a glare, Nick ignored her completely and stepped forward.

"Wha…what happened?"

Nick gulped his surprise as he met a pair of knowing, albeit foggy eyes. This was definitely the first mutation they'd met who could communicate verbally. As the turtle appeared to shepherd its wits back into order, he leaned over it cautiously.

"You were tranquilized," he said hesitantly. "You're in our lab."

The turtle looked around, his mind obviously clearing as the last chemicals in the dart faded from his system. Experimentally, he tried to raise a hand, only to find it bound.

"Why am I tied down?"

There was real fear in the question, and Elsie found herself moving forward. Without knowing she was going to do it, she took the turtle's left hand. It was tense, calloused, but it gripped hers like a lifeline. Her heart warmed to the creature instinctively. There was something in its face, something expressive. If the face had been human, she'd almost have called it gentle.

"You're all right. We're not going to hurt you."

"Yeah, I've heard that before. Look, Dr Tatopoulos, I know mutations are your specialty, and I'm sure I'm a fascinating subject of study, but I'd really like to make it clear that I am not a lab rat. I'm a sentient being, and I'd like some say in my circumstances. My name is Donatello, and I'd appreciate not being in restraints, please. If you are willing to let me up, I'm sure there's plenty we can learn from each other on more equal footing." The beginnings of an idea was blossoming in his mind, the solution to a problem he hadn't quite defined, but it would be difficult to implement while not viewed as an equal. And while tied down. Definitely more difficult if he became a specimen.

The HEAT team exchanged glances. As Randy would have said, it was sort of a new level on the weirdness-scale: a talking mutant terrapin who was obviously intelligent, self-aware, knew at least one of their names, and had the clarity of mind to make a polite request. Nick was halfway to unbuckling one of the binding straps when a hand slapped his from the table.

"_Non_. We do not know how dangerous it is," Monique said crisply.

"Oh, come on! How many mutants have been shorter than us AND able to talk before they breathe fire and destroy everything in sight?" Randy asked. Then, thinking over his words, "Maybe that wasn't as helpful as I intended."

"NIGEL says the terrapin doesn't have much in the way of a radioactive signature. So no breathing fire on this one," Mendel reported. "And if you ask me, it doesn't seem nice to keep somebody tied up when they're…sort of a guest. On the other hand, that whole 'destroy everything in sight' problem is not insignificant."

"It is not a guest," Monique argued. "It is a threat until we know otherwise."

"Donatello, you said your name was?" Nick asked. At the turtle's nod, he continued, "why were you sneaking around our lab this evening?"

"I didn't mean any harm," was the response, and to Elsie it sounded almost chagrined. Like a teenager caught out after curfew. "I only came because I was trying to study Godzilla, get some readings on him. It is vital to my research that I acquire as much knowledge as I can about mutations and the way their molecular structure and DNA can be impacted."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds real threatening," the paleontologist rolled her eyes.

"I know you deal with things that mostly just want to eat or smash you, but I'm not like that. I'm not an animal, not a monster. I don't know what I need to say to convince you, but I really, really think you should trust me."

"Why's that?" Mendel asked curiously.

Donatello closed his eyes. Somehow, he felt relatively certain that "because if you don't let me up so I can check in at home, my brothers will come find me and make you trust us even less while they tear the place apart and kick the snot out of everybody to rescue me" was not the best answer ever. And it was, Donnie knew, a greater and greater possibility every passing moment.

The argument went round after round, Monique insisting on keeping him tied up and the others cautiously or enthusiastically advocating for his release, but with a sinking heart Donatello felt sure the question would resolve itself some other way. He heard them before anyone else – he had been listening for them his whole life. But only a fraction of a heartbeat after the purple-clad turtle was aware of his brothers' proximity, a rapid beeping went off from a computer terminal at one side of the room, and Monique turned towards the sound.

"Intruders." Loading the tranquilizer gun with swift efficiency, she gestured to Dr Tatopoulous. "I will handle them. See that you leave it there and keep it confined."

"No! You're making a big mistake!" Donnie said, desperately. The last thing he wanted was a fight between a scientist who was friends with Godzilla and his family. However it ended, it could not be a good thing. "Look, they're coming after me. If you just let me up…"

But it was too late.

The room plunged into sudden darkness.


	2. Viewpoints

So, the muse has been perching on my shoulder for this story to the exclusion of everything else for the last week or two. The story is, in fact, at around 130 pages and still counting, but I'm notorious for updating way behind what I've written – I do a lot of edits and I have to let things really feel right before I submit them to the public eye. But this story has an end in sight, I promise, and I'll carry it through! In the meantime, thank you to everybody who has read and enjoyed the tale so far.

As before, I do not own TMNT or Godzilla – I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes. And thank you again to Macx for the lending of the "Deep Water"-verse!

Enjoy!

* * *

Raphael felt a scowl pull at his face as he silently followed Leo into the building. Thanks to the GPS trackers in the Shell Cells, Donnie's whereabouts were easily traced to a tired old ferry building right in the middle of Godzilla Central. The better-than-standard security they encountered, somewhat challenging even for their skills and experience, had sent a red warning flag up in the angriest turtle's mind. The monitors and motion-sensors were pointed at the ground, not the water where Godzilla lived; these were for intruders, not skyscraper-sized mutants. And any building that looked so inconspicuous but had top-of-the-line equipment against unwanted visitors was highly suspicious. The last time they had been in a similar situation had been Agent Bishop's little basement during the end of the Fugitoid incident.

Raph tensed at the recollection, slipping through the new hole in security around a rooftop entrance. Behind him, he could hear the nearly-inaudible sound of Mikey sucking on his fingers after proving yet again that he was not quite as talented as Donatello at dealing with wiring; however, the youngest turtle had managed nonetheless and the building's lights had obediently died only a heartbeat before. In the stillness following the sudden darkness, they could clearly hear their brother's voice from somewhere below, possibly one floor down.

"Really, we're not a threat to you! I can prove it if you'll just let me up!"

"There," came Leo's whisper, softer even than the sound of his breathing. He pointed to an elevator shaft with a service door, lit by one lone emergency light. The three turtles crept into the shaft, expertly moving stealthily to the floor below via the cables. Another service door swung silently into more darkness, but this was definitely the right place. Small scuffling of feet in one direction indicated people. And people could lead them to their brother.

"Look out!" came Donatello's warning, shouted with such urgency that all three turtles instinctively dodged to one side. It was a near thing – a dart whizzed through the air inches from Mikey's leg. It was followed by another, shot by an unseen adversary.

"It's a funnel point!" Leo realized belatedly. "Spread out! Raph, you get Donnie!" The blue-clad turtle began heading for the direction where the darts were originating, Michelangelo providing a noisy and annoying target off to one side.

"Nyah nyah! Gotta do better than that against a guy like me!" he shouted, bouncing easily over tables and what looked like large pieces of equipment for who-knew-what. When the attacker switched focus to Leonardo, Mikey became the silent one, arcing wide around the crate that served as cover to come up from behind.

Both brothers met each other face to face, their adversary momentarily vanished. But before either could react, a figure dropped onto Leonardo's shoulders, striking hard. As the turtles began to fight in earnest, they each found a moment in the combat to smile: whoever this person was, he or she was very good, but not quite as good as them, certainly not when they were working as a team. Now it was only a matter of time, assuming there were no other surprises ahead.

Meanwhile, Raphael had followed the sounds to where he could tell Donatello was struggling against something. In the near-pitch dark he could see a familiar form straining against bonds on a table.

"Hang on, Donnie. I gotcha," Raph hissed in a voice softer than a breath as he slipped to his brother's side. Beneath the fighting noises across the room, the red-clad turtle could hear a few individuals moving in the darkness around them, though a few yards away. The movements were awkward, stumbling, not those of someone likely to attack in the pitch blackness, but more someone not expecting to have been blanketed in darkness and attacked – to Raphael's mind, therefore, not a threat. Not yet.

"Wait," Donatello tried once more, murmured desperately in the near-silence of their invisibility training. He so wanted to bring things to a peaceful conclusion!

"Later," Raphael cut him off. With a practiced flick of sai, he sliced through the restraints holding his brother down, keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps. Donatello pulled himself from the table, reaching out for where he knew his bo had been left before the lights went out. With the proper skill of a ninja, he retrieved his other belongings as well, silent as the shadows, and stowed them quickly in his bag.

"Jefe, I got an idea!" came a new whisper in the darkness. The turtles froze in place, absolutely still. Though intended to be quiet, the person could have been heard across the city in his accented hiss. "I can get the lights on in about 30 seconds if you let me hack into a different power grid and route it through some systems."

"Okay, you do that. On my mark, I want the lights on full. I'm going to see if I can help Monique. Elise, stay here and see if you can keep this one from running away."

A person moved in their direction, obviously someone trying to be quiet and who knew their way around. Without any signal needed between them, Donatello and Raphael soundlessly leapt into the air, catching the rafters of the ceiling and easily pulling themselves out of the way, though the purple-clad turtle hung back for a moment longer.

As they crept through the rafters, Raphael felt something tense within settle. His brother was safe – he could breathe again. Angry as a matter of course, the red-banded turtle lost all sense of perspective or patience when one of his brothers was in danger. He would break his body into pieces before he'd allow Don to be hurt again; already and not long ago he had stood by while the cut that led to the outbreak infection almost cost him a brother. "Never again," Raph promised himself. Raph tugged on Don's arm in the direction of the continuing fight between the other two and this "Monique" person. It was time to head home – they could sort out the details later.

-==OOO==-

As Nick picked his way as quietly as he could across the completely darkened space, he felt a thrill of fear run up his spine, coloring the scientific interest that was already piqued. From what he had heard, whoever these intruders were knew their "guest," given that they had spoken of a "Donnie," and that could only mean the turtle who called himself Donatello. But were they friends or enemies, and to whom?

Crossing into the common area of the loft, Nick felt a stir in his mind and quickly clamped down his emotions with steely control, simultaneously denying any need for help. The situation was chaotic enough without adding another, and giant, mutant to the problem, especially while they were all indoors and wanted to keep the lab in one piece. He heard Monique grunt with effort and sprang forward.

"Randy, now!" he roared, and the lights blazed to life. At the same instant, smoke pellets flew into the fray, quickly obscuring two forms locked in combat with Monique. Nick couldn't be sure, given the very brief look, but he was willing to bet he had seen two more turtles. The scientist covered his face with his shirt as the smoke threatened to overwhelm him. A sudden silence fell as the noises of the fight abruptly stopped.

"Is that smoke? Like fire?" Mendel squeaked from where he had taken refuge in a corner as the quiet stretched a few moments and the smoke curled lazily up to the ceiling.

"No," Monique coughed, emerging from the smoke rather disheveled and breathing hard. "Merely a tactic to cover their escape."

"So whoever it was is gone?" Randy asked.

"Looks like it," Nick called back, opening a nearby window. The smoke quickly vanished in the breeze of the fresh air, revealing an empty space once more.

"Them and our friend," Elsie announced. Everyone turned to the examination table and saw that, indeed, Donatello was missing, and they needed a new set of straps. Perhaps thicker ones.

"How...?" Mendel began, tipping his head to one side. "I mean, I know the readings said that one was smart but...?"

"I'd say perhaps we underestimated the threat these creatures may pose," Monique scowled dourly. She had not been that outmatched in hand-to-hand contact in years, and yet what her hands had met in the darkness had not been human flesh and blood – of that she was certain.

"No, Monique. I think you're wrong." Everyone looked back at where Nick was leaning against the wall, thoughtfully staring at the open service door to the elevator, still swinging slightly. "We did underestimate them, but I don't think they're a threat at all. I think," and he sighed, "we just missed the chance at a friend."

-==OOO==-

Donatello took a slow breath and waited for the lecture to begin.

"Sure you're okay?" Leo asked, no hint of accusation in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'd have been fine, too. They weren't going to hurt me." Donnie looked more closely at the eldest turtle. Normally he would have expected the "see, we told you it was dangerous, now don't let it happen again" speech on the way home, Leo not even waiting to arrive at the lair to begin. Normally there would be the concerns of secrecy, of endangering the family, carefully delineated. Normally the soft side of the turtles' leader would have come out later, after his brother was properly ashamed. But this time Leonardo seemed intent on skipping his usual spiel and going straight to the concern.

"What's that?" Raphael asked, pointing. Donatello looked down too, to the bandage that had been wrapped around the tiny punctures made by the darts in his arm. Without missing a beat, Leo pulled out one of his twin blades and neatly sliced through the gauze, sending it floating to the ground. Neither turtle flinched at how close the sword came to Donnie's skin – they both knew Leonardo would cut his own arm off before he would intentionally harm his brother.

"It's just…"

"There's a little blood," Michelangelo piped up, scrutinizing the spots carefully. "They hit you with something?"

"Yeah, they put me out…"

"Okay. We'll take you to Leatherhead for a full workup, then." Leo scooped the fallen gauze from the ground and tucked it away. "We can ask him to test this, too."

"Guys, what is the deal?" Donatello finally asked, torn between rolling his eyes and laughing at how absurd this was. "All that happened was they caught me, sedated me, and were trying to figure out what sort of mutation I was before you came in. Nothing funny. These people are doctors, specialists. It's not like it was Agent Bishop!"

"Look, no offense bro'," Raph said, "but we're not takin' any chances with you this time. Last time you got a scrape we almost had to install the world's biggest aquarium to keep you in. Remember that?"

"It isn't that we don't believe you or trust you," Leo added, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "but Raph's right. None of us know what was in that dart, including you. None of us know how that stuff might react with our bodies. Let Leatherhead run the checks just to be sure, okay?"

"But…"

"You're not gonna win this one," Mikey said cheerfully. "So don't make us tie you up and carry you to LH, 'cause we totally will!"

Donatello sighed. They were right, of course; he had come perilously close to losing himself to foreign chemicals once not very long before, and he didn't care to repeat the experience. And the concern his brothers were showing him warmed him to his shell – they were genuinely worried. The least he could do was help alleviate their anxiety. But even as he permitted himself to be led deep into the sewers to Leatherhead's new home and lab, he sighed internally. Somehow, he just couldn't believe Dr Tatopoulos would have allowed anything like that to happen to him, no matter what his brothers said.

-==OOO==-

"We should have eliminated it at the first opportunity."

"And the award for blowing the situation WAY out of proportion goes to…Monique!" Randy quipped.

"From everything we saw, don't you think if they'd wanted to hurt us they could have?" Elsie asked pointedly. She gestured to the precisely cut restraints on their examination table. "They were strong, fast, armed, and obviously skilled. And all they did was take one of their own away from, what to them, probably looked like a pretty suspicious situation."

"Loathe as I am to agree, in this case I'm with the others," Mendel said hesitantly. "I mean, if it were one of us on a table being examined by a bunch of mutants, wouldn't you do the same thing? Besides, that one was polite, said please, and I wasn't allergic to him – what's not to like in that?" The blonde scientist's entreating attempt at humor fell rather flat.

"Irrelevant. The creature and its fellows constitute a threat. They know our location, our defenses, and our capabilities. We cannot ignore this." Monique's eyes narrowed as she glared around the room. Randy shrugged helplessly, Craven winced openly, and Elsie glared back. But Nick was looking at the table intently.

"Jefe, what do you think?"

"Monique, I know you're worried. But I really think you're wrong on this one." Nick finally looked up from the table. Those who knew him well could see that his mind was elsewhere.

"I do not believe so."

"Just because you got your butt kicked doesn't mean you have to be a sore loser," Elsie snickered. Monique ignored her with a superior sniff.

"So what's the plan, then? Do we beef up security? Go turtle-hunting?" Mendel asked.

"No," Nick cut off the inevitable stream of recommendations from the French agent. "We're going to leave it for now. It's not like we don't have enough to do already. I think we'll see them again sometime, and I'd rather we let it happen on their terms than go find them ourselves."

Before anyone could say anything else, Nick turned and walked out to the pier. The set of his shoulders told the HEAT team all they needed to know about his frame of mind, and they let him be, returning to their own spirited debate.

Outside, Nick leaned on a railing and closed his eyes against the cool night air. A swirl of emotions inside struck and ebbed like the water before him, but all things considered, it was pretty calm. Between the helpful distance of time and the training of Monique, the once ever-present specter in the back of his mind had become easier to bear, almost welcome now. It had, at the least, become so familiar, he wasn't sure what he would do without it. But when his emotions were riled up, as they had been tonight when the lab plunged into darkness, it took all Nick's self-control to keep that presence calm and away.

"Hey, big guy," he said softly as a giant snout broke the water's surface before him. Godzilla's brilliant eyes glowed very slightly in the harbor-lit darkness, and they seemed to burn as they sought their parent. Without even looking, Nick could see and feel every fiber of Godzilla. Their link, their bond, had only grown deeper over time since it had been forcibly awoken in them both, and though Nick was slowly becoming accustomed to it, it was still vividly raw sometimes.

"I'm okay, Godzilla," Nick breathed, opening his eyes and projecting comfort and security. Unconsciously, he extended a hand to touch the exposed scales, rubbing them almost affectionately. The fear that had prickled in his mind so recently had alarmed his enormous charge, and it had taken most of Nick's self-control to keep Godzilla from tearing apart the lab to find out what had upset his parent. Though by now they had both learned to read each other clearly enough that Godzilla might well have been able to understand Nick's thoughts and feelings and recognize that, even though events were alarming, they weren't precisely threatening. "Nothing happened. Well, something happened. But not what they think."

Reaching into a pocket, he drew out a slip of paper. Sometime after the lights had gone out, as he had been moving to help Monique, Nick had felt something that, at the time, he had dismissed as some object in the lab he had run into in the dark. But when he found an email address scrawled on a scrap torn from a printout that had been near the table, when he put that together with the sense that what he had felt in the dark was actually a three-fingered grip on his shoulder, when he added the earnest and intelligent demeanor and expressions of Donatello, he could only think that Monique was wrong.

"You look like a big monster to everybody but me and HEAT, don't you?" he said softly to Godzilla, who snorted gently in return, reading a melancholy touch in his parent's mind. "But we know you're not. If I'd met that turtle before you, I wonder if I would have made the mistake with him that everybody else does with you."

Nick hid a smile as he considered what Monique would do if she ever found out about the contact information he now possessed on what she had labeled "that dangerous creature." She'd probably lecture him for weeks, not to mention threaten to break not a few of his bones. But Nick knew, as did the rest on the team, that Monique's brusqueness and preoccupation with security, which Elsie called a polite term for "paranoia," was driven as much by her conscience as by her duties. Cold and aloof to any outsider, Monique was as protective of HEAT as Godzilla was of Nick, and this encounter had evidently shaken her sense of security pretty badly. Nick made a mental note to talk to her sometime about it. But not yet.

"Thanks for checking on me, Godzilla. But you can go back to hunting. I've got an email to write."

-==OOO==-

As Godzilla slid back under the water, confident that his parent was safe, even if still troubled by the mysterious things that worried him, the giant creature caught the scent of that odd encounter from earlier. He had battled things his own size and somewhat smaller, all of which had posed an immanent and obvious threat to his territory and to Nick. Protect. It was a simple urge, instinctive as breathing. But the small being that had been in his space today did not seem to require an attack, did not threaten enough to be driven away. Godzilla felt about it as he did about whales that sometimes encroached on his territory – they meant no harm, would not injure his parent, and would not interfere with him, so he was not aggressive towards them.

But the appearance of this individual reminded him of a sea-going type of similar creature that was generally not worth eating and otherwise so powerless as to be beneath his notice. Still, this creature had been the size of his parent, and Godzilla knew that small threats to him could be dangerous to Nick. As Godzilla effortlessly explored an interesting current deep underwater, he felt his parent's worry ebb away. Whatever that intruder had been, it had not threatened Nick. It had not done harm or challenged him in any way. Even if there were a group of them, as he had smelled, he had no cause to deal with them if they did not threaten what was his. The other humans so commonly nearby lived in his territory and were protected, especially and above all his parent. These others could come and go if they pleased, as long as they left what was his unharmed.

Snorting, Godzilla shot forward, the raw pleasure of water in his mind. The harmless intruders fell away from his interest, and a nearby school of fish instead captured his intense attention. All was well, Nick was safe, and here was food. What more was there?

-==OOO==-

Good evening,

I certainly hope it is someone I unexpectedly met this evening on Staten Island that's receiving this email. Since I'm not quite sure, and since I don't know how secure this is, I won't say much, but I did want to make it clear how sorry I am that things happened the way they did. I think you were right, and we should have listened to you. But, for whatever it's worth, I'm glad to have met you, and I hope you're willing to forgive our precautions. But it's probably better to stay away from my team for a while.

You spoke of learning from each other. If you feel you can trust me, I'd like the chance to find out what you're working on and see where our interests dovetail. When you can confirm who has received this email, and if you know if this is secured, I'd be glad to send you some information if it will further your studies.

I hope you and your friends are someplace safe.

Dr. Nick Tatopoulos

-==OOO==-

Dr. Tatopoulos,

Yes, this email is secure – even your resident hacker can't break my security, not yet.

I'm sorry things happened the way they did, too. I tried to tell you that someone would come to find me eventually, and I hope they didn't bruise your friend too much. Ditto on my staying away for a while; not only would your team not be ready, but neither would mine!

I've attached some basic information on what I've learned and the gaps in my knowledge. Also a couple of schematics I think you'll find interesting. I don't know if this will help you at all in your work, but I'm hoping you can help me.

Maybe next time we meet we can make things go differently. For everybody. In the meantime, I'm trusting your discretion as a scientist. I would speculate that anybody who is that close to Godzilla and hasn't tried to destroy him can be trusted, so I'm hoping you'll prove me right.

Don


	3. Exposure

Sorry it has taken me so long to update! I really do have a ton of this story written – I've just not been ready to post more. Also, I moved, and my internet went bye-bye for far too long! I hope this chapter will make up for the absence!

I do not own the TMNT, Godzilla, or HEAT. I only kinda wish I did, but I'm not sure I'm really up to the challenge. I do wish these things were fully released on DVD, though!

Enjoy!

* * *

Don,

Thanks for the follow-up biological information – that clears up a lot of my questions. Except this one: how on earth did you manage to test yourself without a full laboratory? I believe your findings, of course, and they follow exactly from everything else you've provided me. I just can't fathom how you're getting the tools to do all this. If you're working from scratch, I'm impressed.

By the way, you haven't been tinkering in our system again, have you? Randy noticed we seemed to have picked up a hacker, and a persistent one. He's had to pull a bunch of our data off the network and we still can't find how deeply the attack penetrated. You're sure your encryption on these emails is sufficient? Maybe you'd better not send anything else for a while.

We also had a weird sort of visit from a guy in a black suit and dark glasses. Funny thing was that he introduced himself as an insurance agent, but I've had experience with people using that as cover for something else. Just a little too interested in Godzilla, and I think I saw him at one of our calls not long ago. Ever run into him?

Better go – the worms are calling!

Nick

-==OOO==-

Donatello had to smile as he finished reading the email from Dr. Nick Tatopoulos. Their exchanges had gone back and forth for a couple of weeks, and the turtle was delighted by what he found in Nick. Not only was the doctor highly intelligent, questioning, and flexible in his thinking, but he also had a sense of humor and practicality that set him apart from most of the admittedly dry scientific community. Already Donatello had gained new insights about their mutant DNA, and already his research had given Nick some new perspective on Godzilla.

Rereading the email, however, Donnie's eyes narrowed at the indication that the HEAT systems had been hacked, and at the description of Nick's visitor. The purple-clad turtle could only think of one individual who wore a dark suit and glasses, was obsessed with mutations, and would give Nick enough of a creepy vibe to even pose the question, and the answer was not comforting. Normally, Donatello would have taken this information straight to his brothers, but given that his email back and forth with Nick was sort of a secret (but only in the sense that nobody had asked if he was quietly discussing the most private aspects of his own physiology with an outsider, of course), he wasn't sure how such a conversation would go. On the other hand, if it was Agent Bishop tracking Godzilla, the turtles needed to act and fast.

Donnie decided he needed more to go on than the allegations in the email, something he could really use to gather some more data. He checked his past correspondence with Nick; HEAT had just handled a nasty fungus in an old storage warehouse, and Godzilla had put in an appearance when Nick breathed a little in and got sick. If Donatello knew Agent Bishop, he'd be investigating the area to see if he could pick up anything.

Maybe it was time for some random, totally coincidental scouting on the surface. Before he could think it much farther through, he stood up and moved towards the dojo, peeking in the open door, the signal that whoever was practicing within was willing to be interrupted. A closed door meant "do not enter if you value your head."

"Hey, Leo?"

"What's up, Don?" Leonardo didn't even open his eyes as he continued to move easily through the kata. With flawless precision, he sliced one katana through the air, bringing it to a halt exactly halfway through a candle.

"I just, well…" For one moment, he hesitated. The brainiac wondered if maybe he should tell Leo the truth, that Bishop was tracking Godzilla and he wanted to investigate, but he dismissed it. That would mean he'd have to admit his contact with Nick, and that would likely not go well, even if his older brother would understand.

"What is it?" The leader of the turtles opened his eyes then, unused to such a long pause from Donatello. He was not surprised to see his brother squirming a little awkwardly, as though he were about to do something dishonest – Leo could always read his brothers, and especially Don, who was generally the most forthright. But Don took a breath and seemed to settle himself more comfortably.

"I just wondered if we could go on a training run tonight. It feels like it's been a while since I've been out, and I want to stretch, you know?"

"Sure, Donnie. But is there something bothering you?"

"No," and the purple-banded turtle shrugged just a little too easily, "I just feel cooped up."

"All right," Leo replied, watching his brother closely. If it had been Raph or Mikey before him, he'd have made them tell him what they were obviously hiding by whatever means worked best. But with Don, it was better to wait. Donatello always came clean in his own time, one way or another. "But if you need to talk about anything, you know I'm here."

"I know," and the smile that spread across his face was entirely at ease. "Thanks, bro."

-==OOO==-

"Hey Donnie! Wait up!"

"What's gotten into him?" Leonardo asked as he landed on a rooftop next to Michelangelo.

"I know he's been coopin' himself up in his lab a lot," Raphael commented, "but I haven't seen Don this eager to get outside since he got better."

"You guys coming?" came a call from their brother, a little farther ahead. This area of the city was in transition from old manufacturing warehouses to upscale condos, and therefore pretty quiet. Still, it was far from their usual stomping-grounds, and though it wasn't unusual for one turtle or another to decide to wander in a new direction of an evening, it wasn't often Donatello doing the suggesting.

"Well, everybody's gotta air out their brain sometimes!" Mikey shrugged.

"Yeah and if you want to talk about air and brains…you know what? That's too easy," Raph sighed. He flicked the back of his youngest brother's head disappointedly.

"Hey!"

"Come on you guys," Leo admonished. "Donnie never does anything without a good reason. Let's see what he's thinking this time."

As the three made their way towards where Donatello was waiting, they saw their brother turn his head, as though he had suddenly spotted something. All at once, the braniac turtle rolled to the side, coming up in a tense crouch. A heartbeat later, his bo was in his hands and he was leaping out of sight. Leonardo signaled for silence and the other three charged forward with as much speed as they could manage – their brother was on alert. When they reached the place Donatello had been standing, they understood why.

Below, an old warehouse looked like it had seen better days: a significant hole had been punched in one side, leaving almost the entire southern wall gaping open. Inside, the turtles could make out the outline of a tape perimeter, and a few pieces of new, shiny equipment scattered around the area. And standing in the shadows was the unmistakable outline of one of their most hated adversaries, calmly giving orders into his cell phone.

"Bishop!" Mikey breathed.

"That guy! Time to make him sorry for what he did to Don," Raphael snarled, twirling his sai in anticipation.

"Wait. Where is Don?" After a moment, Leo spotted his brother behind some cover off to Bishop's left. The scientifically-minded turtle had pulled out his laptop and seemed to be working furiously. "Let's get there first."

Raphael put his weapons away and followed the eldest turtle in stealthily joining Donatello in his hiding place on the ground. Peeking at his screen, they could see that the brainiac had managed to use Bishop's distraction on the phone to hack into the agent's own equipment. He was rapidly pulling up and saving everything he accessed, one file at a time, fingers flying over the silenced keyboard.

"What's he doing here?" Leo asked in a voice softer than a whisper. In response, Donatello pulled up a picture of Godzilla, evidently taken from a satellite above. Then he pointed to a series of document names in a folder: "current location," "DNA analysis," "genetic properties," "correlation with terrapin samples," "potential applications."

"Dude, he's stalking Godzilla the way he did us!" Michelangelo realized. Don nodded.

"So what're we gonna do about it, fearless leader?" Raph asked, the angry challenge still present even in the quiet whisper of his voice.

"If Bishop finds out a lot about Godzilla, could it be bad for us?" Leo asked his brother, fearing he knew the answer. Donatello nodded again, definitively, and closed and stowed his laptop.

"He could do ten times what he did before on accident," the brainiac confirmed.

"Then we've got no choice. You've got his data, right? So he doesn't need it anymore."

-==OOO==-

As Raphael picked himself up and kicked off the trash can that had marginally broken his fall, he wondered again how exactly a scrawny human had picked up such incredible strength and speed. Fighting Bishop four on one was unfair, and not to the agent. The four turtles could barely hold their own against him, for reasons no one understood, and even when they had been with Splinter, Casey, and April they hadn't been able to defeat him.

"But you're gonna go down this time, Bishop. For what you did to Donnie," he growled, crouching as he launched another furious attack.

"What are you talking about? I saved Donatello, Raphael. Without me, your brother would still be a dangerous, mindless animal." The agent's voice was smooth, taunting. He easily deflected the blow Raph levied at his head, dodged an incoming kick from Leonardo, and managed to pull the second of Michelangelo's nunchaku from his grip, the first already decorating a ladder a half-block away.

"It was your fault he got that way in the first place!" Mikey shouted, his jovial voice somewhat less cheerful than usual.

"You've got to work on cleaning up your own messes, Bishop," Donatello commented, running into the fray with speed and aiming his bow for the agent's legs.

"No, Don, this is our fight!" Leo said, interposing himself and attacking directly. "You leave this to us."

"As you wish," Bishop replied. With a kick that looked effortless, he managed to pull both katana from Leo's hands, and a moment later had flipped Raphael's sai away with the borrowed nunchaku of Michelangelo's. The three turtles crowded around him, wholly unarmed, striking as best they could. But still Bishop evaded them.

Donatello stood back, bo in his hands, unsure. On the one hand, he was inclined to follow Leonardo's orders and let them handle it, but on the other, he wanted to help, wanted to take back some of his own after what had happened. He was about to move when everything changed.

"I think it's time we get serious, gentlemen," Bishop said evilly. A moment later, he had knocked Michelangelo and Leonardo into dumpsters, and Raphael was on his shell on the ground. Before any turtle could react, the agent reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a hand-held jet injector filled with an ominous orange liquid. Raphael froze.

"Don't come any closer," Bishop threatened, his voice still even. He waved at where Leonardo and Michelangelo had begun to advance on him again. "This is a very new cocktail and I'm not quite sure how Raphael will respond to it. Unless you want to find out, I recommend you stand back." Leo waved his youngest brother to stand down, slowly circling until the two of them could see both Bishop and Raphael clearly. Their anger shook in every line of their bodies.

"I ain't really a fan of your doctorin', Bishop," Raphael taunted. "Your bedside manner could use some work."

Donatello, still in the background, suddenly realized he had an opening. If he charged, calculated the precise angle of attack, and hit, he could knock the syringe from Bishop's hand, he was pretty sure. But to do that, he'd have to put himself in range of it. The purple-clad turtle could sense his brothers buying time, trusting that he, mostly forgotten in the moment, would take action. He gripped his bo hard, hard enough that it hurt. He had to help, had to end the stalemate before something happened to Raphael. But getting that close to Bishop, to another chemical that could do what the last one had done absolutely terrified him. A trickle of sweat ran down his face and he could feel horror in the pit of his stomach. His mind circled in scenarios, each worse than the last, and his stomach churned violently. He couldn't think straight, he was falling, he was going to be sick. And he hated himself for the fear.

"Time to see how this works," Bishop said, a wicked eagerness in his voice.

A tiny terrified noise made its way out of Michelangelo's beak as he stared. Bishop was going to inject something into his brother that might make them lose Raph as they had lost Don for a while. And there was Donatello, paler than they'd seen him since just hours before he'd started to transform, his face almost wild in fear. Somebody had to do something! But as he started to charge, to stop Bishop, to do anything to save Raph, vaguely aware of Leonardo at his side, someone else moved.

With a cry that was as much dry heave as true vocalization, Donatello blurred forward. Every nerve and muscle in his body was screaming to go the other way, but he couldn't, he wouldn't leave Raphael to that fate. Bishop turned, but Don had closed the distance and, thanks to the long reach of his bo, was already there. He hit the agent's wrist with a crushing blow, sending the pressure spay-injector flying. Raphael took the opportunity to land a solid punch in Bishop's stomach as he rolled out of the way.

"Donnie, no!" Leo's voice rang out.

Donatello looked up in time to see the syringe-casing coming towards him.

-==OOO==-

"No! Not again!" Raphael felt himself near to exploding. Donatello's head moved with dreamlike slowness, down to where the hypo-spray had impacted just above his plastron, a few drops of liquid still dripping from the rough gash it had left after shattering. Then the turtle looked up, his colorless face becoming even paler in the streetlights.

"Pity. Would have been nice to see what that would do to an untainted turtle. Do let me know how the reactions turn out," Bishop shrugged triumphantly. With incredible speed, the agent avoided a furious rush by Michelangelo and Leonardo and began to retreat for the shadows.

"Donnie?" Leo called. He knew it was a bad idea to let Bishop go, but his first concern was his brother. "Donatello, say something."

"Snap out of it Don!" Mikey said urgently, gathering near. But even with his anxiety high and tightening his throat, the youngest turtle could not quite bring himself close enough to touch his brother. What if that stuff was going to turn him into a monster again?

Raphael, however, had no such hesitation. He gripped Donatello's shoulders tightly and shook him a little. "Come on, brainiac. Come back to us."

Donatello's fuzzy eyes regained their focus. A hand absently moved to the blood trickling from the wound. The jet injector had struck him below the collar-bone above the plastron, releasing its chemicals and then falling apart on impact, leaving a few nasty cuts where jagged glass had hit. He took a bit of the yellowish fluid on a finger and stared at it.

"I'd…really like to get to a lab, if you don't mind," he said shakily. He seemed to have trouble focusing on anything, even the turtle inches from his own face. Even so, pushed his brother's hand with an elbow, keeping Raphael from touching the wound.

"You got it. Hang tight," Leo ordered, steeling himself. "Mikey, get the weapons. Raph, you've got Don. I'll call ahead." He locked his brother in a steady gaze, nearly wincing at how wide Donatello's eyes were. "It's going to be okay, I promise. If you feel anything, tell us. And fight it. We'll take care of the rest."

"Why'd you do it?" Raph asked his brother. Don waved him away, absently. "Why can't we help you?"

"Contamination. Dangerous," he replied, foggily. As if reading his mind, Michelangelo was suddenly beside them, an old rag in his hands.

"Here. Will this help?" His eyes were wide.

"Perfect," Don tried to smile. He carefully wiped every droplet of liquid he could from his chest and neck, then tucked it around his plastron as best he could. "Thanks, Mike."

"Yeah, we're on our way," Leo was saying into the phone in a tight voice. He snapped the Shell Cell closed decisively. "Okay. I'll take point. Mikey, you've got the rear. Raph, stay with Don. Leatherhead says not to let him fall asleep and to keep him from exerting himself if you can help it, to slow down the spread…" he trailed off, his throat tight. "Let's move."

Raph gave his brother an arm to lean on, but once the turtles were back on the roofs, he gave up on that idea completely. He could tell just by the sound of Donnie's breathing that his brother was tiring. After the second jump from one building to another, he pulled the genius across his shoulders.

"Raph! I can walk," Donatello protested, and the weakness of his voice appalled them both.

"I know ya can," he replied. "And normally I'd let ya. Just not tonight. Besides," he said, and his usual gruff tone softened a bit, "you never answered my question."

"Question?"

"Why'd you do it? Why'd ya put yourself in danger like that?" Raphael felt his brother sigh. And shiver. His skin was getting cold. That was definitely not a good sign.

"You'd have done it for me," Donatello said. "Best I can do, right?"

"You can do a lot more than that, Donnie," Raph replied heavily.

-==OOO==-

It was a long, difficult trip home. When the four brothers finally got to the lair, taking the most direct route rather than the most secret and secure, everyone was waiting for them. Leatherhead already had his coat on, eyes narrow with concentration. The lab was flooded with light, and two or three computers were up and running various scenarios. April, also in a lab coat, stood next to a cot, openly worried as she laid out various gadgets and prepped her laptop. Casey Jones, for once serving as more than a pain in the neck, was in the kitchen, attempting to make tea without breaking anything, and mostly succeeding. Master Splinter met them at the entrance.

"My son? How do you feel?"

Donatello, who had been in a daze since the chemical had entered his bloodstream, looked up at his father and sensei, and again his eyes cleared. Leonardo, having taken a turn at supporting him, felt his brother's skin suddenly go much colder as the younger turtle broke out in another cold sweat. He tried to smile confidently, but the expression fell flat.

"Scientifically speaking, I've been exposed to an unknown chemical that is definitely interacting with my endocrine system as well as my…" he trailed off, eyes glazing over once more.

"Get him on the cot at once," Leatherhead said, his gentle voice punctuated with the same sort of sharpness Donatello had when thinking in precise scientific or medical terms. The voice that meant his heart was as far from his mind as he could make it – the crocodile was probably as worried as the rest, though, as he would say himself, he would worry later. As Donnie began to shake, Michelangelo took his other arm, and between himself and Leo they mostly carried their brother to the ready bed. As soon as Donatello was laying down, he seemed to fall immediately unconscious.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Raph demanded.

"I do not know – I have not yet begun to examine him," Leatherhead replied. "In the meantime, did any of you come into contact with this liquid?"

"No, just Donnie. He wouldn't let us move him until he was sure we wouldn't touch it," Leo answered slowly.

"Good. The exposure is limited, then. If you had touched it, we might have a much bigger problem."

"What can we do?" Michelangelo wanted to know. April put a hand on his shoulder.

"Just let us run some tests. We'll know more soon."

"Until then," Master Splinter said quite sadly, settling himself at the side of his gentlest son, "we wait."


	4. Alliances

I'm sorry for the long hiatus. We moved, my computer died a slow and horrible death, and also I got a promotion at work. However, through all that, I kept writing, and this story is now numbering around 215 pages in Word, and it isn't even done yet! Yikes! But I'm enjoying the direction we're going, and I hope you do, too. Here's a good long chapter for you to make up for the absence.

Probably I'll keep updating sporadically for a while, until the whole thing is done on my end, and then it'll be weekly-ish updates to the end.

This chapter is dedicated to the LJ user staplesandpens, who participated in a little game I ran on LJ where I posted lines from all my incomplete stories and guessed this one correctly. Sadly, the scene I referenced is a ways out, but we'll get there, I promise!

I do not own the TMNT or Godzilla or the human characters from G:TS. I'm borrowing them and throwing them together in a mix of mayhem and mischief for my own (and hopefully others') amusement. Don't sue me; there's nothing worth claiming!

Enjoy!

* * *

"What's a guy gotta do to get some food around here?"

So often he heard words like those, it took a moment for Splinter to realize that they were spoken aloud beside him and not simply in his wistful heart or by an errant son. Opening his eyes to the form before him, he was met by the gentle face of Donatello, sitting up and no longer pale.

"Donnie!" Three green rockets shot from the living area to the bedside in a noisy instant.

"My son! Are you well?" Master Splinter put a hand on the arm that had been so still for so many hours. In fact, his vigil had been largely uninterrupted for almost half a day, while his other sons had waited restlessly, April had napped on and off, and Leatherhead had worked tirelessly. The giant crocodile approached.

"How do you feel, my friend?"

"Fine, actually," came the cheerful reply. "Hungry." He smiled at his brothers, and they visibly relaxed.

"As I suspected, then, the chemical was mostly inert in your system," Leatherhead nodded to himself, making some notes. "Actually, we're quite fortunate. Had it been any of the rest of us, the results would not have been as good."

"Whaddya mean?" Casey asked. The clumsy but well-meaning friend had mostly spent his time trying to help, and otherwise distracting the turtles.

"Let me guess," Donatello said. "My system is full of antibodies and other leftovers from my recent experience, and these allowed me to fight off the effects of Bishop's chemicals. But if it had gotten into any of your blood," he nodded at his brothers, "it would have done the same as what happened to me before, if not worse."

"Essentially, yes."

"Fascinating. Can I see the results of…?" Donatello began to ask.

"Nope. First you eat," Leonardo decided. "Then you sleep. Then you can do the science thing again." At his brother's half-glare he shrugged, "We're not taking any chances with you, Donnie. Can't you get that through your head?"

"Too many brains in the way," Raph grumbled. But he was smiling anyway.

"There's a problem you don't even have Raphie-boy, 'cause you don't have enough brains to be in the way of having…um…" Mikey trailed off.

"Case in point, Mike. Case in point."

-==OOO==-

"So how come you're still awake?"

The question startled April so much she jumped in her chair. Spinning, she saw Donatello smiling apologetically as he approached.

"Just going through some of the encryptions you gave me from Bishop's equipment. I've managed to break through the second layer of security, and I think…" she turned back to the screen and typed furiously. "I think I've almost got the third."

"Wow, April. Way to go. So what did you find?" Donatello pulled a chair up to his workstation, letting April remain at the computer itself. He knew it wouldn't be long before one of his overprotective brothers appeared to shoo him back to bed, so he took the chance he had.

"Not much – the best stuff is still protected. But from what I can tell, you managed to hack into a pretty good repository of his data on the chemical properties of your own mutation as well as that of Godzilla. Looks like he's back to his old tricks, trying to make an army of Godzillas to protect the world or something," April sighed. "I think one is more than enough!"

"And an army of Godzillas under Bishop's control doesn't exactly fill me with confidence either," Donatello nodded.

"Yes, but it looks like Bishop can't get there, at least not yet. Here," she brought up a file. "Am I reading this right? I know computers way better than biology." Donatello leaned over to read for a few moments.

"If you think you're looking at proof that Bishop can't bind Godzilla's DNA to human DNA, then yes you're right. He tried the same tactics he used with our DNA, but it doesn't look like it transfers right. Something about the nuclear side of things doesn't seem to play nice with the human body, surprisingly enough."

"Well, that's encouraging. Maybe now that we've got this information and he doesn't, maybe we've slowed him down," April replied.

"We can hope."

-==OOO==-

"My son, you should be resting," Splinter startled Don. April had gone home an hour ago, and Donatello had been hoping he would be left to do some work. But there was no chance of him being awake without his sensei knowing it – their whole lives, Splinter had never missed a moment of what went on in their lair, regardless of whether or not there was a door between himself and his sons. Apparently, the rat had decided this son had been up long enough.

"I know. I just…I want to figure this out," Don sighed. On one screen before him were the partially decoded files from Bishop. On another, the details of his recent mutation and the cure Leatherhead had devised with Baxter Stockman.

"Much troubles you of late, Donatello," Splinter said, taking a seat nearby. "Since your recovery, you have seemed distant, hesitant. You keep more to yourself, carry a few more cares, push yourself harder than ever. Is there nothing I can do to ease your mind?"

Don met his father's eyes and felt himself suddenly touched with guilt. Much as he hated to admit it, he had been keeping secrets, he had been pushing his family away a little. In fact, ever since Karai had taken their lair from them, he hadn't been entirely on his game. So much, from the ease with which the Foot had found and destroyed them, to his own carelessness in battle with an infected creature that nearly cost him his sanity, it was all his fault. How could he reengage with his brothers with so many mistakes on his recent record?

"I…I'm fine, Master Splinter," Don tried to dismiss it. "There's been so much going on, and I've been really caught up in things, especially with trying to learn my lesson from the outbreak virus for next time. I wasn't ready, I wasn't quick enough. I didn't see all the angles I should have seen. I have to do better, be more prepared, in case there's a next time."

"You could not have foreseen the consequences of Bishop's actions," his sensei replied kindly. "You are not at fault in any way. You have never let us down when we have depended upon you for solutions."

"Yeah, but who was it that got turned into a monster? Because of me, you all ended up having to do things you never should have done. I mean, making a deal with Bishop? Storming Foot Central just to bargain for me? It should never have come to that!" Donatello squeezed his fists tightly, trying to check his frustration.

"My son," and Splinter's voice took on the tone that demanded complete attention; Don looked up. "Do not let our decisions cause you such guilt that you distance yourself from us. Had our positions been reversed, you would have done the same for any of your brothers, or for myself. I know this. Do not make the mistake of believing that if you push us away we will not take a risk for you again."

"I…" the turtle began. But his throat closed; there was nothing to say. It was true: he was pulling away from them, not because he didn't care, not because he wasn't thankful for what they had done to save him. But because he never, ever wanted them to have to do it again, not for his sake. He needed to make certain that, if anything ever happened again, his brothers were not without recourse, were not dependent on enemies for help. Maybe that was why he was so set on forming a friendship or alliance with Nick of the HEAT team, even against every lesson he'd ever learned about secrecy. Because then, even if the worst happened, his family would be safe. Somebody with knowledge and experience would be there to fill in the gap. If he could make it work, anyway. It was like preparing a back-up database, except he was trying to create a back-up of himself, to protect them if he failed.

"We will not speak on this again until you are ready." Rising gracefully, Splinter put a hand on his son's shoulder. Though Donatello might himself be unaware, he was the most expressive of the turtles when it came to deeply-felt emotion. The ninja master did not know all of what had passed through his son's mind when he had fallen silent, but he had some idea. "Now, return to your rest, and try to find peace. You are among your family, Donatello. There is nowhere safer than this for you. Take solace in this."

"I'll try, father. Thank you." And Donatello managed a smile. As he made his way to his room, however, feeling his sensei's eyes on him the whole way, he swallowed. Nearly getting infected a second time by Bishop was just more evidence that he had a long way to go before he could trust again. It wasn't that he didn't trust his family – Donatello no longer trusted himself.

-==OOO==-

Nick,

Sorry it's been such a long time since my last email. A lot has happened.

That guy you asked me about, the one with the dark coat and glasses? Yes, I know him and he's seriously bad news. His name is Bishop and trust me, this is somebody you want to keep as far away from you and Godzilla as possible. The reason it's taken me so long to get back to you was that I decided to follow up on your email and ran into him. And it's just now that I'm mostly back to myself.

From what I could learn, it looks like Bishop's studying Godzilla with an eye to replicating the mutation in a controlled form. So if you see the guy, keep him as far from your notes or your big scaly friend as you can. Or get Godzilla to eat him.

I'm joking, but I'm serious. This guy is NOT a friend, not to anybody.

I'll hold off on sending anything else through for a while if it helps, but if Bishop is starting to take interest in you, I think we'll need to work together even more just to keep your knowledge safe. I'm not sure what to do about my own team, but I'll think of something.

In the meantime, keep your head up and be careful.

Probably seeing you soon,

Don

-==OOO==-

Nick sighed as he crossed the street, a certain amount of frustration in his step. It seemed like nothing had gone right for weeks. First the chance encounter with Donatello that ended so badly, then an overzealous hacker caused Randy to have to reengineer half their equipment to keep their data and systems safe, then something had happened to Donnie which the turtle had refused to explain but sounded serious, and now this. What should have been an informal gathering of various scientists had instead turned into an awkward scenario in which Nick found himself on the losing end of a debate about the value of mutations. He supposed it was inevitable – when you get a room full of scientists who have been in labs so long they'd forgotten what being in the field was like, they were somewhat hesitant to be receptive to ideas so outrageous and, well, giant. Like Godzilla.

Nick fought the urge to kick the sidewalk like a petulant child. Even with Godzilla floating serenely out in the ocean somewhere, sending him familiar sensations of swimming, speed and grace in the dark underwater world, he couldn't help but feel tense. It wasn't bad enough that his life's work, and his greatest achievements, meant so little to the scientific community, that, in fact, if anyone outside of HEAT or Major Hicks knew exactly how "close" he was to his "subject," there would be nothing short of mutant interference that would save him from every test those small-minded lab rats could imagine. Godzilla, for all the terror he could inspire, also seemed to encourage disdain from the scientific community, and had a reputation of being a big, brainless annoyance with a laundry list of reasons he should be studied from under glass. But they didn't understand. They couldn't understand. Even before the bond, Nick had known Godzilla was special. It had taken him months to convince HEAT of the same. And it was looking like it might be decades before anyone of any scientific standing would agree. They were so busy being afraid of Godzilla, and maybe secretly ashamed that their precious sciences had so twisted nature as to produce him, they never saw what he was worth.

But Nick knew. He couldn't help but know - the glory of Godzilla's being was a part of him now.

Though he was miles from the nearest bridge to Staten Island, Nick decided against a cab. Monetary considerations notwithstanding, it was a beautiful summer night and a walk would probably do him good. Godzilla was having his own fun swimming and hunting fish, and the lizard's tranquil mood was definitely contagious. As the pavement passed unnoticed beneath his worn shoes, Nick felt himself relaxing into the city around him. Even at night, maybe especially at night, the hum of life in New York City was soothing. He could almost feel mothers singing to their children at bedtime, friends laughing, night-workers setting out to their jobs…

Punks surrounding him…

Nick's eyes narrowed as he pulled himself a little more together. There were two in front and three more approaching from behind. From the colors and the tattoos visible, he recognized the Purple Dragons, one of the local gangs that was in the news so much. His options were limited, given that the area was all but deserted, but the danger was far enough away that he could probably lose them down a side street if he caught them by surprise. Feeling adrenaline rush through him, Nick broke into a sprint, ducking to one side, across the road, and around the corner of a building.

Smack!

Nick bounced off a man big enough to be a boxcar, but he was quick enough to keep from getting knocked to the ground by the impact. As he turned to head in a new direction, two more Purple Dragons appeared.

"Well, what do we have here? Out late, mister? There's a toll for that," the mountainous man said in a gravelly voice. A tattoo of, obviously, a Purple Dragon emblem wound its way up his throat menacingly.

"Thanks for the warning," Nick said wryly. With the practice of more than one altercation and plenty of sparring with Monique, Nick charged the smallest of the thugs, slamming him with a fist as he dashed by. Shouts followed him as he pounded down the sidewalk. Generally, Nick was fine with standing and fighting, but he was well outnumbered, and even the French agent would have thought twice before taking on this giant and all his friends single-handed.

Something struck his head from out of nowhere and Nick stumbled as a rush of blood flowed into his eyes. Somewhere in the ocean, the scientist could feel Godzilla roaring in fury, paddling back to the city as fast as he could. Though Nick tried to convey to his charge that this was not really a good time for Godzilla to come to the rescue, the pain of the gash on his head and the Purple Dragons closing on him weakened the argument. Nick stood and readied himself for a fight, both physical and mental, and he wasn't sure which was more important that he win. Or that he stood any chance of winning either. The odds were certainly against him.

"Well, look at what we have here!" quipped a cheerful voice. From the sky, or so it seemed, four shapes dropped around him, and Nick was startled to recognize them as mutant terrapins.

"Are you all right, Nick?" Donatello asked, drawing up close. In the dimness between streetlights, Nick could make out the familiar form, clutching the same staff weapon he had been carrying before. Of the other three, one bore twin swords, one a pair of sai, and the third a set of nunchaku.

"Yeah, we were just having a nice chat," he replied lightly, wiping a bit of blood from his forehead. In spite of the strangeness of it all, Nick felt suddenly much safer.

"Well, hope you don't mind if we butt in!" said a turtle with a red bandana, his voice cutting and eager.

"The turtles!" yelled the giant Purple Dragon as he turned nearly purple with rage. "Get them!" A heartbeat later, the street seemed full of Purple Dragons, though there probably weren't more than twenty or thirty. Still, more than plenty.

"Donnie, you stay with Dr Tat…with the doctor," the turtle with the blue bandana stumbled over Nick's name as he spoke authoritatively, "and if things get too hairy, get clear. We'll be right behind you."

"I can handle myself, if you can take the big guy," Nick said, pride hurt.

"Have it your way, doc!" the turtle in orange grinned. The four turtles fell into a formation around him, and Nick couldn't help but be amazed at the incredible fluidity of how they moved. Godzilla was size and strength and a type of raw grace, but these four were something else.

"Ready guys?" the blue turtle asked, kitanas drawn.

"Right behind you," Donatello said.

As one, the four leapt into the air and attacked. Working both independently and with flawless teamwork, the turtles made quick work of every thug that dared approach them. But, unlike combat beside Monique, which was quick and efficient, the turtles seemed to enjoy each other's company as much as the fight itself. Nick was amazed.

"Hey Mikey, comin' atcha!" the red-clad turtle yelled, flinging a trash can towards the turtle who fought with nunchaku. Without even looking, the turtle in the orange bandana, "Mikey," caught the receptacle in the middle of a backflip, neatly clanging it on the heads of two Purple Dragons and slamming it down over a third.

"Nice assist, Raph!" Mikey called back.

"Little help here guys," Donatello called, and Nick turned to see the turtle he knew disappear under a pile of several large Purple Dragons. Before he could even step in the direction to help, though, a blur went past.

"I gotcha Don!" the turtle in blue struck down each individual with a neat precision that even Monique would have appreciated. He pulled Donatello to his feet.

"Thanks Leo. But I think things are starting to get a little crowded," Don pointed down the street. More Purple Dragons were approaching en masse.

"So what's the call, fearless leader?" the one called Raph asked, a sardonic twist in his voice.

"Pull back," Leo replied amidst dispatching two more punks. "This isn't the time for this fight."

"Doctor, you'd better come with us," Donatello said, suddenly beside Nick. For the first time, Nick registered that the turtles were significantly shorter than him – somehow, from their skills and the strength with which they carried themselves, he'd not really noticed until now.

"All right," Nick said. Godzilla was close now, too close, and unless he wanted his enormous charge to unleash his fury on the city without the excuse of an equally large mutant threat, he needed to get himself out of danger and quick. He readied himself for another sprint. "Where to?"

"No time to explain," the blue-clad turtle said, regrouping with the others in a tight knot. "Donnie, you take him. Mike, how about a little cover?"

"Coming up!" The turtle in the orange bandana disarmed a Purple Dragon who was wielding a club, then tossed it into the nearest streetlight. In the sudden darkness, given that other nearby streetlights were dim or non-functional, Nick felt an arm wrap fast around his waist and pull, a sudden admonition for silence quieting him before he could yelp. He could no more have told which direction he was going than he could have told which was up when he was swimming within Godzilla's mind, but the ride was only a few moments. Breathless, he waited for the blood to stop singing in his ears, then looked around.

The four turtles were facing him, all of them standing ankle-deep in fetid water. The space was dim, and it took a few moments for Nick to realize that he was probably underground, in a nearby sewer. But he had no idea how they had managed to get here so quickly, in pitch-darkness, with him along for the ride. For that matter, how had they stuffed him down a manhole without his knowing it?

"How…?"

"Sorry dude, but the sewers are just about the best retreat ever," Mike commented. "They're always there, and nobody ever wants to follow you!"

"Doctor Tat…Doctor, are you all right? Looks like you got hit by a rock or something," Leo said, gesturing towards the still bloody gash. "Donnie, should we patch it up?"

"Probably. But I don't have any of my supplies on me, and we're nowhere near one of my drop-points."

"Drop points?" Nick asked. Even as he listened to the conversation surrounding him, Nick reached inward for Godzilla, sending him feelings of calm. He could feel Godzilla poking around in his mind, almost as if to assure himself that his parent was as safe as he was projecting, but after a few moments seemed satisfied. Nick "talked" Godzilla into returning to hunting fish, promising that if he needed his help, he'd ask. The city didn't need a giant lizard visitor tonight, especially one on a rampage over an altercation that was already over.

"I keep a few caches of things hidden around the city, just in case we need them in a hurry. But we're a lot closer to home than any of them," Donatello answered softly.

A long silence fell. Nick looked and saw the turtles making eye contact, and though their faces didn't betray much, he had the sense that these four could read each other with their eyes closed, in the dark, underwater, while fast asleep. In the lull, a slow trickle in his mind told him that Godzilla was cautiously willing to obey his parent and go back to fishing, but the feeling Nick got from him equated to approximately, "yes, I trust you're okay now, but I've got my eye on you and if anything happens, I'll be there no matter what you say." Which was a far sight better than tearing up the streets to find him; Nick could handle this arrangement. He pushed himself back to his surroundings and refocused on the turtles.

"Guys, he's okay," Donatello said, finally breaking the quiet. "Nick's a scientist, like me. He's not a bad guy."

"You're on pretty comfy terms for somebody you only seen once, bro," Raph pointed out archly.

"Well…the truth is that we've been emailing since I, you know, met him. There's too much we can learn from each other for us not to work together. And I told you that you could trust him!" He felt the truth explode from him. It was a terrible betrayal, in a way – the turtles lived their lives secretly, and here he had shared some of their most intimate secrets with someone who was still basically a stranger. But it was a gamble worth the effort. If it paid off, if he managed to earn the trust of this human, and maybe his team, he'd have more than another scientific ally. He'd have a back-up plan.

"I guess I'm not totally surprised," Leo replied, sighing. "You never could resist the chance to learn." So this was what Donnie had been keeping from them. He turned towards Nick, and the biologist suddenly felt as though he were being examined down to the level of the soul. "Look, we live a pretty secret life, and we need to keep it that way. Donnie's willing to vouch for you, and from what he told us you didn't hurt him last time, so I'm willing to extend a little faith. But can you keep us a secret? Can you keep whatever you learn about us from ever being exposed?"

"Leo, Godzilla's more rumor than truth in the city even though they've all seen him in action more than once, and Nick works with him all day long. If he can keep something thirty stories tall a secret, I think he can handle us," the purple-clad turtle remarked. Raph snorted at his brother, but nodded.

"Besides, what's worse than what he knows now?" Mikey asked.

"I want your word, doctor," Leo pressed.

"Done. I won't reveal anything to anyone outside my team. I'll have to tell them, though. We work everything together, and they make my life miserable when I leave them out of stuff." He winced internally at the lecture he would get from Monique if she found out how badly he had let his guard down tonight.

"Tell me about it," Donatello sighed.

"All right. We'll take you back to the lair."

"Um…not to sound stupid but…" Mikey put up a hand as if he were in school.

"Why stop now? It wouldn't be much of a change for you," Raph interrupted the turtle with the orange bandana.

"Hey! Anyway, can somebody tell me who exactly this doctor is? I know he's connected to Godzilla, and his name's hard to pronounce, and he's been on the news. But that's all I got."

"Sorry. I should have done that before. Guys, this is Dr Nick Tatopoulos, not only an expert in the field of biology and nuclear physics, but he is also the world's best living expert on mutations in general and Godzilla in particular."

"Nice to meet you," Nick said.

"Likewise Doctor Tat...Tatooi…Tatty…can I call you Nick?" Mikey asked. Nick nodded and smiled – by now, he was used to it.

"Please allow me to present my brothers – Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo," Donatello said, gesturing at each one in turn. Leo nodded in greeting, Raph grunted, and Mikey waved cheerfully. "This is who rescued me from your lab."

"A pleasure. But how did you learn to do all that? The fighting and the disappearing trick?" Nick asked as he fell into a strangely comfortable formation with the turtles as they began making their way down the sewer towards what was apparently their home.

"It's a really long story…"


	5. Tentative Introductions

So! After what feels like forever, this story is at last complete! It's about 265 pages in Word, and my beta is slowly reading through its lengths looking for things that make no sense and those that make all too much sense. But I've decided to go ahead and begin posting anyway. I'll try to keep it regular, at least. But hang in there. We've got a lot of story to go!

This has been a true labor of love, and I hope the story I intended to tell is the one that reaches you.

As always and, sadly, forever, I do not own the TMNT or Godzilla in any way. Wish I did, but not sure I'm worthy of the connection!

Enjoy!

* * *

"He's really late," Mendel said, turning from his workbench. Although each and every member of HEAT, Nick excluded, had an apartment elsewhere, they spent most of their evenings at the lab, even camping out on the couch and the cots in a back room when the trip home seemed daunting. So it was not out of the ordinary for the team to still be in the old ferry building this late at night.

What was odd was that Nick was not among them.

"Maybe the dinner or whatever it was ran late," Randy suggested. "You know how he gets when he's talking about his favorite subject. And the G-man hasn't come charging out into the city, so he's probably okay."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Elsie conceded, stopping her nervous pacing. "If anything had happened, Godzilla would have reacted by now."

"Indeed. But we do not yet know how deep the bond goes when one party is unconscious," Monique put in, "so there is still some risk."

"Oh, thanks, French fry," the red-headed woman sighed. "It's not like I'm not worried enough."

"Chill out, Elsie. He'll be fine." Randy turned away from his computer and flashed a grin at her. "The jefe is tough. And he's got the best back-up in the world!"

"Gosh, thanks!"

All four heads swiveled at the sound of the new voice. In the doorway that led to the upper deck stood Nick, a bandage on his head, but otherwise looking pretty happy. Beside him, a familiar turtle casually leaned on the door-frame.

"What happened?" Mendel asked as the rest of HEAT started to swarm their friend. Monique's naked fury made her eyes extremely cold, but the turtle seemed not to notice her glare. Either that or he was particularly good at avoiding angry stares.

"Ran into some trouble in the city. The…Donatello actually pulled me out," Nick replied, waving them away.

"Trouble?"

"Purple Dragons," Donatello answered Randy's question. "They have a knack for finding people on the street and talking them out of the valuables. Fortunately, Nick is pretty tough, and keeping tabs on those guys is on my to-do list, so no real harm done."

"Thanks again, Don," Nick said, smiling at the turtle. Still, the biologist's head swam. The four turtles had astounded him with their story, their intelligence, their abilities. Though he could not say where precisely their lair was, having been left with the other three at some sort of central runoff while the apparently-resident medic went ahead to pick up his supplies, all the equipment he had seen showed impressive innovation. And as Nick was learning, a lot of that innovation was Donatello's.

"No problem!" the turtle shrugged easily. "All part of the service."

"Um, not to sound rude, but why did you come back?" Elsie asked. "It's not like we were really nice to you the first time."

"I invited him," Nick said. "I was in tight spot, and Don helped me get out of it. Seemed like the least I could do was introduce him properly."

"To be honest, I've wanted to talk to all of you for a while now," Donatello said. "The work you do is absolutely fascinating, and more importantly, directly related to my own line of inquiry. I was hoping that I could learn from you, see what you've already figured out that would further my study. I've read all your works since our last encounter and they've really helped me. But I'm sure there's a lot you haven't been able to publish considering…well, just considering. And given some other things going on, I think we might need each other."

A nervous look crossed Donatello's face, and he turned back to Nick. In the sewers, when hefound himself talking easily with the doctor and realizing what an ally he had, this plan had seemed so simple. Nick trusted his people; he had assured the turtles that HEAT would be receptive to them given time. But the brainiac of the turtles was still worried. He had Nick in his corner now, a dozen emails had done that, but he wanted the others. Leatherhead was a great scientist, but this team was an invaluable resource, and if Donatello ever wanted to prevent what had happened to him from striking his brothers, if he ever wanted to be sure his family would be safe if something happened to him again, he needed their help. Especially now that Bishop was back to his old tricks.

"Hey, you scratch our back we scratch yours, or your shell, whatever," Randy smiled. The youngest member of HEAT was about as easy-going as anybody, way moreso than the rest of the team, and the prospect of a giant mutant turtle for a friend was pretty high on his "cool" meter.

"Wait, you actually read my paper on the similarity of construction and mobility of large exo-skeletal mutants with modern robotics design?" Dr Craven asked, eyes alight. At the turtle's nod, he began speaking very quickly, "I didn't think anybody read it because it was so far afield of my usual subject-matter, and it didn't get the usual response from the scientific community, who already thinks I'm a little bit nuts anyway, so my credibility appeared to be an issue and…"

"We get it, Mendel," Elsie stopped him, and though her words were sharp, her tone was good-natured. "And if you don't mind answering some of my questions, I'd be glad to have a subject that can talk about its physiology and psychological motivations instead of, you know, spitting fire at me or something. Kind of a nice change of pace."

"Donatello's not a specimen, though," Nick said firmly. "He's a friend."

"Well, we've been studying Randy for years searching for intelligence, so I think we can handle a certain amount of professional distance." Dr Craven spoke without even cracking a smile, but the satisfaction in his voice was unmistakable.

"Oh, yeah? What about you? Elsie could write a whole journal about the amazing Allergic-to-Everything Man!" As the verbal sparring began, Nick and Donatello traded glances; it was not unlike the turtle brothers themselves, though with a little less physicality. The familiarity was a small comfort to the turtle on display.

"What about you, Monique?" Elsie turned towards the Frenchwoman who had not spoken since Nick's arrival. She was staring at Donatello very coldly.

"If you all desire to forge some form of friendship with this creature, I will not impede you. But do not expect me to follow your idiocy." She crossed her arms and glared.

"Monique, he's a friend. He helped me. I've had the opportunity to speak with Donatello extensively, and he's, for lack of a better word, as 'human' as we are. He's intelligent, self-aware, experiences emotional nuances, the whole deal. He just also happens to be a turtle." Nick could almost feel the tension getting worse around him. Somewhere Godzilla snorted in the water, but the lizard was familiar enough with the kinds of altercations that could happen between his parent and the other humans, so he didn't rise to defend as he otherwise might have - small comfort for said parent at the moment.

"And I just happen to be in charge of security. I respect your decision and your analysis, doctor, but I will deem it worthy of trust when I am ready." Monique turned on her heel and went downstairs, shoulders stiff.

"Donnie, I'm sorry," Nick said after a moment of awkward silence. "Monique's a good person, she really is. She's just…protective of us."

"I know," the turtle said, and though there was weight in the words, he smiled. "I know somebody like that myself."

Nick nodded – Monique and the other turtles had plenty in common, there was no denying it. He just hoped they'd all give each other a chance. "So, what's the verdict?"

Donatello pulled out his Shell Cell and rapidly typed a few keys. A moment later, he smiled even more widely. Randy, Mendel, and Elsie all saw him relax a bit, as though he had been somehow off-balance and was now much more comfortable.

"They're coming."

The words had just begun to hang in the air when three shapes appeared in the doorway.

"Sorry, guys," Nick apologized sheepishly as more turtles emerged in the light. "But we didn't want to make it harder, and we thought four turtles might be a bit much right off the bat."

"Four?" Elsie's eyebrows went right up into her hair.

"Of the teenage mutant ninja variety!" one of the newly-arrived turtles quipped brightly.

"I think I read about you guys in a comic book once!" Randy exclaimed.

"No, you're thinking about the radioactive hamsters. Not us," Donatello sighed. Nick stepped forward quickly, gesturing towards his friends.

"This is my team: Dr Elsie Chapman, Dr Mendel Craven, and Randy Hernandez."

"Geez, Donnie, how many braniacs did you fall in with this time?" Michelangelo asked.

"I count three PhDs, not to mention the original brainiac here," Raph said, nodding towards Donatello.

"Actually, it's more than that – Dr Craven has at least two degrees all on his own," Don clarified. He gestured at the HEAT team. "We've got enough for a real brain trust between those three."

"Well, don't I feel left out?" Randy remarked.

"Think we should do brother swap?" Michelangelo asked. "Trade that guy, who seems cool, for Donnie?"

"Knock it off," Leo admonished. He folded his hands and bowed slightly. "I am Leonardo. These are my brothers Raphael and Michelangelo. You've already met Donatello. It's nice to meet you, I think," Leonardo held out a hand. "Sorry for the intrusion last time. We thought Donnie was in danger."

"Well...this time we'll let bygones be bygones," Randy said loftily. He eyed the offered hand for one more moment, then took it.

"Yeah, because we absolutely didn't drug and restrain their brother against his will and run some tests on him," Elsie pointed out. "I'd say they had the right to be worried about dissection!"

"But we didn't!" Mendel squeaked as an angry gleam lit in Raphael's eyes. "He woke up and started talking way before we even got that far!"

"You sure we can trust these guys, bro?" Raph asked, hands instinctively flicking to rest on his sai.

"Calm down," Leo admonished. "We already know they didn't hurt Don and besides, we need their help. Or they need ours."

"We do?" Randy asked.

"Oh, probably. And if Monique were here, I'm sure she'd want to hear…" Nick began.

A shadow moved in a corner. Before anyone could blink, the four turtles had positioned themselves defensively around the HEAT team and drawn their weapons.

"What's going on?" Dr Craven asked, fear tightening his voice.

"Shh," Leonardo said, closing his eyes. He adjusted his stance slightly and murmured, "Six. On three."

The other three nodded. The blue-clad turtle whispered an almost imperceptible countdown of "three…two…one." And the four exploded.

Leonardo, darting forward, slashed a gleaming sword into the shadow, and a squeal of metal echoed as bits of some kind of gadget went flying. Simultaneously, Donatello reached into the rafters with his long bo staff and brought down another while Raphael threw a sai, embedding it in a wall through a third. Michelangelo swung a wide arc and sent a fourth and fifth flying from their hidden perch behind a piece of equipment.

"Is that all of them?" Raph asked.

"Listen," Donatello said, and the four held perfectly still. The members of HEAT, somewhat taken aback by the sudden attack, stood in silence as well.

"There!" A clicking had given a position away. But as Leonardo barreled for it, it abruptly cut out.

"How…?"

Monique appeared, holding the last device, wires neatly torn out.

"This is the last," she announced coldly. "Explain what they are."

"Monique," Nick began warningly.

"You think we brought these with us?" Mikey asked in surprise. At the silent glare he received, he gulped.

"Sorry lady, but you're barking up the wrong shell. Wasn't us," Raph grunted as he retrieved his sai and added his target to the pile.

"Actually, they're right," Randy said. When everyone looked to him, he shrugged. "Look at 'em. Everything these guys use is good, don't get me wrong, but it ain't molded from scratch like this. This is high-end technology, probably corporate or government."

Every eye in the room turned to the examples piled on a table. The gadgets, simply built, appeared to be reconnaissance robots, fit with optical recording devices, but with a certain quality to them that was, as Randy said, beyond what Donatello could do in his workshop. The turtles traded glances – they bore a certain resemblance to a few metallic friends that had cost them their first lair.

"He's right," Dr Craven said, scrutinizing a piece. "This is top-of-the-line. I'd give a ton for a grant that could buy me stuff like this."

"This sounds more like Cameron Winters to me," Elsie put in. "He's got the money, he loves spying on us, and he's a pain."

"Yeah, but it also looks like…" Michelangelo began. Donatello threw a swift look to Leo, who nudged his brother meaningfully. "Um…like it's a good thing we were here!" he finished.

"I would have removed them myself." Monique crossed her arms.

"Cool it, everybody. I've gotta get some air." The sudden tenseness in Nick's voice cut through the rest of the discomfort in the room. Without much of a backward glance, the biologist made a rapid retreat for the nearest door and went outside.

"He okay?" Raph asked.

"He's fine," Randy lied easily. "Jefe just needs a break from the children sometimes."

"Which normally means you," Mendel commented.

As the verbal sparring began, with his brothers as a few new participants, Donatello slipped after his friend.

-==OOO==-

"Hey big guy," Nick breathed. A familiar surge of annoyance flitted through him, but he dismissed it quickly. Some days he couldn't go two hours without needing to reassure his charge; it was entirely understandable, given the circumstances of the evening, that his mind-mate would not accept anything less than an in-person visit to reassure himself. Godzilla was in the water a few yards away, not bothering to come all the way up this time now that he could see his parent. Hunting was good, and his parent was only mildly distressed, and the intruders were no longer a threat. The lizard huffed and a few bubbles popped on the surface of the water.

"See? I told you I was fine. My friends helped."

A low rumble echoed in the water, like a deep engine of some kind, but the sound was familiar to Nick, and warm in that familiarity. It was the half-purr, half-growl Godzilla tended to make around his parent. It signified contentment, for all was well, and also a certain amount of protectiveness, an intention to keep it that way. The emotions that had once been so chaotic, so overpowering, were much more subdued these days, and now a fixture in Nick's daily life. He was still not fond of having Godzilla in his mind, but he was definitely growing accustomed to it.

An unfamiliar hand on Nick's shoulder startled him, and he spun rapidly, adrenaline gushing. Godzilla reacted a beat behind, raising his head out of the water menacingly.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!" Donatello apologized. Then, seeing the giant mutant before him, he took a step back. "Oh."

"It's all right. Godzilla, it's all right!" Nick repeated. Godzilla tipped his head and stared at the turtle with one bright eye.

"Easy there big fella," Donnie took two more steps back. "Didn't mean to startle your friend! Honest!"

"Godzilla." This time, Nick's voice was soft, and Donatello almost had to strain to hear it. "He's not a threat. And he's not prey. He's a friend. He's okay." The biologist moved so that he was between the turtle and his charge and put up a hand. "It's okay," he whispered under his breath.

Godzilla lowered his head and bumped the hand as gently as a cat. He sniffed for a moment, causing a slight breeze around the pair, then stepped back, sinking into the cool water once more.

"Good boy."

"Wow." Donatello looked from the scientist to the lizard and back again. "He understands you, doesn't he?"

"Well…" Nick began, trying to avoid explanation.

"But he doesn't understand human speech. That's been documented."

"Godzilla understands me. That's all I can tell you for now," Nick said, eyes meeting Donatello's intently. The turtle understood that he was treading on secrets too close for comfort, and he nodded.

"Sure. We all have things we can't share yet." A crash inside brought both back to the present and alleviated the awkward moment. "I'll bet that was one of my brothers. I'd better go check." Nick smiled and turned back to Godzilla, understanding that his secret, or as much of it as the intelligent turtle knew or suspected, was safe.

As Donatello went back inside, excited beyond words for the possibilities whirring in his mind, a shadow joined Nick at the railing.

"He knows." Monique's voice was the coldest it had been all night.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's okay. Honestly, I think they're as scared of us as we are of them. And what can he do if he does know? He's not going to tell anybody."

"Regardless, you should not have permitted him to see that."

"Sometimes, Monique," Nick said, sighing slightly and feeling Godzilla slip below the surface of the water and away to his den, "sometimes you just don't see. Donatello is more like Godzilla, and more like me, than anyone I've ever met. If Godzilla has a cousin, it's the turtles. And if I have a kindred spirit, somebody who can see things the same way I do, it might be him."

He turned to her, smiling a little. Monique was surprised – Nick had not been this relaxed in many weeks. Between the stresses of their usual lives and the added pressure of the mind within his own, he had rarely been at peace. But here, something in the friendship of the turtle had awakened a certain calm within the scientist.

"So you better get used to it. 'Cause you're gonna see a lot of him."


	6. Trace Amounts

I do not own the TMNT or Godzilla or the special-guest star of Star Trek appearing in this chapter. Sorry guys!

I'll try to get a couple of chapters up at a time, but I couldn't resist leaving you with this one!

Enjoy!

* * *

"You guys are sure about this?"

"Don, you've been waiting for a chance like this for a long time. We're not going to hold you back from it," Leo said.

"I'm sure we can save the city at least twice while you're gone," Michelangelo grinned.

"I won't be long. The island's only about a day out from here at the speeds the boat goes, which is pretty impressive," Donnie said slowly. "So I should be back inside of a week."

Still, Donatello hesitated. It was pretty rare for any of the turtles to strike off on their own like this. Sure, they'd broken into pairs at times, and Leo had gone off to Japan for a while, but Donatello was very, very rarely without at least one brother for back-up. It wasn't fear or worry that kept them so close all the time. They were a team, born and raised that way. Every one of the turtles knew they'd be at each other's sides for the rest of their lives, which, according to Don's calculations, would be pretty long indeed. What if something came up while he was away and they needed him?

"Don't worry, brainiac. We got April and LH if somethin' goes wrong," Raphael said, as though reading his brother's mind. "You get goin'. We got it covered. City'll be fine when you get back, and we'll keep Mikey out of your lab. Go do the science nerd thing."

The other three grinned at their brother. If he didn't move his shell onto the boat in another few moments, they were planning to toss him on-board regardless. Besides giving him the chance to study whatever it was that so interested him, it would hopefully get him clear of the city for a while. The truth was that Leo, Mikey, and Raph were not entirely comfortable with their proximity to Bishop, given the recent encounter. They wanted Donatello as far out of harm's way as possible, just in case. And this was the perfect opportunity.

"All right. Well, the Shell Cells will still reach me, so you can call if you need anything. And if anything happens, let me know. I'll have my laptop and I can tap into all our systems from there if you need support."

"We'll be fine," Leonardo assured him. A loud horn sounded from the HEAT-Seeker, and Nick leaned over the railing, waving. "Looks like that's your cue, Donnie."

"All right. Take care," Donatello said, eagerness creeping into his voice. His brothers could see his mind already turning to the situation at hand, away from his concerns. The four did a high-five (well, high-three given the number of digits they each had), and the purple-clad turtle executed a perfect flip onto the bow of the boat.

"Show off!" Randy called out the window.

"See you later!"

As the boat made a hasty exit from the harbor and out to the sea, Michelangelo looked over to Leonardo.

"You really think he'll be okay?"

"Sure. Between Monique, Nick, and Godzilla he'll probably be safer wherever he is than we are here in the city. And besides," and Leo's eyes narrowed, "as long as Bishop's here, I'd rather Donnie wasn't."

"You don't think he's gunning for Don do ya?" Raph asked.

"I'm not sure, but if I had to guess I'd say yes. Bishop never does anything on accident. What if he always intended for that vial of stuff to hit Don instead of you? Just because it didn't hurt him doesn't mean he wasn't aiming for Donnie all along, you know?"

"But then why'd we send him off alone? Don't you watch movies? That's ALWAYS when the hero gets attacked by the villain!" Mikey exclaimed.

"Good thing this ain't a movie, then," Raph said, though there was a darkness in his voice that belied some doubt.

"We know Bishop's here. Maybe this will give us the chance to do something about him before Don gets back," Leo suggested. "At any rate, it's just us for now. Let's return to the lair and make some plans."

"Last one home came from a rotten egg!" Michelangelo shouted. Though he hesitated a moment himself, he seemed to decide to trust Leo's judgment and jumped to the nearest rooftop. The eldest turtle followed him, but Raphael hung back one more moment.

"Take care of yourself, Donnie. And if you need us, we'll be there."

-==OOO==-

"Look out!"

"It's over there!"

"It's fast – watch yourself!"

"I got it," Donatello said confidently, leaping from his place on the deck with the precision of a cutting instrument. He struck hard and fast, and raised his hands in triumph, trophy flopping wildly.

"Okay, being a ninja is cheating," Elsie complained. "We don't stand a chance on our own."

"Chill out," Randy said, relaxing. "If he does all the fishing, we don't have to."

"We're supposed to be here on a scientific investigation, not a pleasure trip," Mendel criticized, "and part of that is collecting samples. Just because you couldn't catch a fish if your life depended on it doesn't get you out of the work."

"Dude, they're fish. And after you eliminate them as 'samples,'" Randy retorted, "they become something way more interesting – dinner."

"Thanks for lending a hand, Don," Nick said as the turtle swam back to the side and pulled himself out of the water, catch still wriggling as it dangled from one hand. "We've got plenty of smaller specimens, but it's important for us to get some larger ones, too. Better data."

"No problem," Donatello put the significant fish in the ready tank and made his way back to his perch on the deck. The turtle didn't quite know where HEAT had gotten the tip that something was out here – they mentioned the military and he didn't ask any further – but so far they had come up empty-handed. Over the last few days, he had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. After arriving at a sizeable sandbar in the middle of the Atlantic, the team had spent a few hours each day catching fish and collecting local plants. The mornings were largely spent fishing, the afternoons testing, and the evenings theorizing, though with no results yet. Dr Craven had even permitted Don to tinker with NIGEL, once he'd promised not to reprogram him significantly. Donatello leaned against the railing and closed his eyes, the warm sun extremely soothing. For a cold-blooded creature, he definitely didn't get enough sunlight. The purple-clad turtle felt like he could just spend forever sunning like this, surrounded by intelligent friends with similar interests. If his brothers were here, it would be absolutely perfect. But then, they might also have driven him crazy; sometimes it was nice to indulge his intellect on his own.

"Hey, take a look at this," Elsie called him out of his reverie. "Something's coming up in the results." She scooted her chair to the side so Donatello could join her at the card-table that was her workstation on the deck. As the turtle read over her findings, she stole a sideways glance at him. He was still amazing to her, not quite in Godzilla's awe-inspiring way, but amazing nonetheless. Though Donatello had never revealed exactly how he and his brothers had been created, saying that it would put other friends at potential risk, it must have been something incredible. Four turtles with the full range of human emotion, expression, social tendencies, not to mention intelligence, were the study of a lifetime. Learning Donatello was practically a genius himself had been a shock – learning he was as gentle as he was bright was a greater one. "He's more human than some people I can think of," she considered.

"Definitely something unnatural here," Donatello murmured to himself. "It reminds me of…" he trailed off, and an uncharacteristic tenseness crept into his posture. "Can I run a few tests on this?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I think NIGEL will suffice, if Dr Craven will let me borrow him," Donatello smiled tightly. Even in the middle of the ocean, apparently his demons refused to give up.

"You're not Randy, so I guess it's all right," Mendel called absently from where he was tinkering with the fishing net apparatus. "NIGEL's inside."

As Donatello made his way below-deck, he nearly bumped into a silent figure, so lost was he in his thoughts.

"Oh! Sorry!"

Monique looked at the turtle as though he were a dangerous insect, one she wished to squash as soon as possible. Her eyes narrowed as she passed him. Donatello sighed. It seemed nothing he could do would convince her that he was not a threat. Four out of five members of HEAT on his side was good, no doubt, but the animosity from Monique was not abating at all, and it was starting to grate on everybody.

While Don continued to where NIGEL was plugged into the more advanced laboratory below, Nick moved from his corner. It wasn't the first time he'd witnessed such an exchange, but he was definitely ready for it to be the last.

"Monique, we need to talk," he said to her, closing the door so they could speak in the privacy of the pilot house. "This is getting ridiculous."

"I do not know to what you are referring," she replied nonchalantly, checking the instruments with a casual glance.

"You and Donatello. Look, I'm sorry you don't like him. But he's a friend and he's trusting us with his life, and you need to trust him in return."

"You are incorrect. I do not need to trust anyone. I do, however, have to follow the orders I am given."

"And what are they?" Nick pressed.

"To protect this team, to watch Godzilla and ensure he causes no harm to the world, and to report everything I learn to my superiors." Monique faced Nick coldly.

"And have you reported the turtles to Roache yet?" Nick held his breath. If Monique had told her boss at the French Secret Service about his friends, the consequences were hard to guess. Sometimes Roache had been a friend and ally, even agreeing with Nick to defend Godzilla and use him to protect people from other mutations. But Roache had also ordered Monique to terminate Godzilla twice, only relenting at the last minute.

"_Non_. I have not." Monique turned, unwilling to meet Nick's eyes. "I have reported that we have made allies of a group that includes specialties in combat and scientific pursuits, and he has not yet asked for details."

"And when he does, what will you tell him?"

"I believe that depends on them. I will not disobey my superiors, even for you, but Philippe knows there are some things better not learned by governments. If the turtle proves itself to be trustworthy, that will enter into the situation. If it is a threat, however, I will expose it and its family in full."

"Donatello is not an 'it,' Monique! He's a friend," Nick corrected her with some heat. He moved so he was looking her in the face again. "He's a brilliant student of various sciences, worlds ahead of where any other normal human would be at that age, and he has invaluable experience with alternative technologies and biological agents. He's younger than Randy in chronological years, but I think you can at least agree he's more mature. And yet you keep this up. I want to know why."

They glared at each other for a few heartbeats before Monique relented.

"I have studied each case worked by this team extensively. There are few constants. The creatures we deal with range from those like Godzilla, created by human activity, radiation, and natural forces, to those that evolved independently and remained hidden, to those from other worlds entirely. We have fought mutations beyond imagining, and human projects with frightening intelligence and resourcefulness."

"And?"

"And," Monique said sharply, "the one constant in all our interactions has been that not one of these creatures has been friendly. Never has a mutation been an ally. Not once have we encountered something that was not eventually a threat, not only to our lives, but to many, many others. This turtle is also a mutation, and one skilled in deadly combat arts, as are its brothers. What prevents it from turning these arts against us?"

"Donatello is different," Nick sighed. Though he hadn't known the turtle in person for very long, weeks of emails had told him plenty. And more to the point, Nick had learned from his own charge how to read emotion where it was not obvious; in Don's case, he could see a gentle spirit and a surprising passion for helping others. "He's got something beyond intelligence that none of the others had. And I'm not talking about his skills or his ability to speak," he headed off her arched eyebrow. "Donatello has a heart."

"Perhaps. And this is one of the rare times I hope you are right," Monique said quietly. "But until I know for certain whether or not you are, I will continue my vigilance and treat it like a threat. If Donatello has a 'heart' as you say, it will forgive my hesitation, no?"

Nick was about to reply when he heard an exclamation from below. Turning, he spotted Donatello racing from the lab to the deck, Shell Cell in hand as he dialed rapidly.

"Dr Chapman, Dr Craven, Nick!" Donnie called in a rush. "We've got a problem!"

"What is it?" Randy asked, turning eagerly from the boring work of fishing.

At the same time, a voice sounded over the phone, and Donatello answered both at once.

"It's Bishop. He's here!"

-==OOO==-

"We're coming," Leonardo said tersely. Snapping the Shell Cell closed, he shouted across the lair, "Emergency guys! Bishop's out in Don's area. We've got to go!"

"I TOLD you this would happen! That rat! Oh, sorry Master Splinter," Mikey winced. "What's Bishop doing way out in the middle of the ocean anyway?"

"Don't matter," Raph snarled. "Donnie's out there too. So how're we gettin' there?"

"Well, we've got the helicopter, and you can fly it," Michelangelo pointed at the eldest turtle.

"I will accompany you as well," Splinter stated, rising from his position of meditation. "Where Bishop is, great danger is always near."

"Let's move," Leo ordered. "It's going to take us hours to get to them as it is."

"They better still be there when we get there," Raphael said darkly.

-==OOO==-

Donatello took a breath and tried to calm himself. What he'd seen on Dr Chapman's sample had been a very similar compound to the outbreak virus, and NIGEL's highly-sensitive equipment could confirm it. It was only a trace, but according to NIGEL, a recent one. Very recent. Shaking himself, and registering that his brothers had gotten his message, the turtle turned to HEAT.

"The chemicals you're picking up are from one of Bishop's experiments, the one with the 'aliens' that attacked New York a while back."

"That was right before there were a rash of sightings all over the city, right?" Nick asked. "We were in the middle of something in Africa and couldn't get back until it had mostly died down."

"Died down nothing," Donnie disputed. "My brothers and I went hunting night after night until the cure was released into the environment. But the point is that this stuff is bad news. And if it's here, and recently…"

"Then Bishop has been here, too," Mendel finished.

"But I thought you said he was government?" Elsie raised an eyebrow. "I know the bureaucracy is a little nuts, but generally, the government are the good guys. The military for sure; we've got a friend in there. There's been a lot of times he's bailed us out or took the heat to protect Godzilla."

"I hate to break it to you, but this particular part of the government is definitely not the good guys, not to me," the terrapin countered. "He's already kidnapped and attempted to dissect my family and friends. And he hasn't been shy about breaking as many laws as he feels like. This is the guy who engineered the aliens that attacked the city when the president was at the UN, and a lot of people got hurt that day. He's bad news."

"Pack up your equipment immediately," Monique ordered. "There is truth to the fact that not all government agencies are the same, and not all will be friendly. We are not well-enough equipped to handle a confrontation, if that is a possible or likely outcome."

"Hate to break it to you," Randy pointed, "but I think it's too late for that."

Everyone turned to see a small boat bearing down on them at high speed. Donatello felt his stomach grow cold. Not again. He would have given anything not to face Bishop, and his arsenal of dangers, again. Especially without his brothers to back him up. Suddenly the ocean felt enormous, the distance between him and the others nearly eternal.

"Elsie, Mendel, get everything below deck now! Randy, you and Monique get inside and see if you can steer us out of here or jam them up or something. Donnie, what can we expect here?" Nick asked as the rest of his team scrambled to follow his leadership.

"I don't even know. Bishop always wants to experiment on me…us," he corrected himself. This was not the moment for his own paranoid demons to cloud his thinking. "So he could be coming just for me if he knows I'm on my own – one turtle is easier to bag than four. Or he could be after your information about Godzilla, since he seems pretty interested."

"But then why the compound in the environment?" Nick wondered, feeling the HEAT-Seeker begin to lurch beneath them.

"I don't know. I think we're out of time to speculate, though!" Don gestured to the boat which was now almost on top of them. It was a trifle bigger than the Seeker, and where HEAT's vessel had scientific equipment everywhere, this one had guns.

"Monique! Get us out of here!"

An explosion filled the air and the HEAT-Seeker rocked violently to one side. Nick and Donatello both managed to hold onto the railing, and they could hear Elsie grunt from nearby while Mendel shrieked.

"Damage report!" Nick shouted.

"Nothing serious!" Randy called back, "but she cannae take much more o' this, captain!"

"Star Trek. We're fighting for our lives and he's quoting Star Trek," Mendel muttered.

"What's the plan?" Elsie asked, joining Nick and Don.

"Personally, I vote for running!" The purple-clad turtle had grabbed his own bag of equipment and held it protectively against his plastron. "We're no match for Bishop."

"He is only one guy," Mendel said. "Right?"

"He's not a normal guy," Don replied.

"Neither is Monique," Elsie quipped.

"Never mind. If Don says run, I vote we run too," Nick said, looking over his shoulder to the pilot house. Inside, Monique nodded and revved the engine. She began moving the Seeker away from the shallows of the island they had been anchored at, while Randy typed busily at the console.

Nick's mind suddenly dipped into darkness and he felt Godzilla wrap around his consciousness. His enormous charge felt the fear of his parent and was demanding an explanation. But the images Nick had to share were not comforting. Bellowing challenge, the creature began to move with speed, confirming as he did so that he was very near. And that whatever thing, mutant or human or object, was threatening Nick was going to be in for a fight.

"Godzilla's coming," Nick said as he shook himself clear again. He noticed absently that Elsie had taken his hand to help him return to himself. "Think he can take Bishop?"

"No! That's just what he wants!" Donatello realized with a sinking sense of dread.

"You sure?" Mendel asked. Donnie nodded wordlessly.

"Can you keep him away?" Elsie asked, her grip on Nick's hand tightening.

"I don't think so. He's too angry." Nick tried not to meet the turtle's questioning eyes – this was not the moment to confirm any of Donatello's theories.

"Watch out!" Mendel shouted. Another blast and the HEAT-Seeker lunged sideways as an alarm in the pilot house began to sound.

"Jefe, we're in trouble!" Randy yelled. "We're hit – Monique says bad!"

"Get us onto the sandbar!" Nick replied. "We'll try to wait it out until help gets here."

"Waitin' for the G-man to save the day!" the hacker crowed with glee.

A primal roar sounded and Godzilla, furious in all his reptilian glory, emerged from the sea in a spray of foam. The giant's tail lashed angrily, creating enormous waves with every strike as he set his sights on Bishop's significantly smaller boat. Another shot rang out from the boat, and a missile, aimed still at the HEAT-Seeker, launched into the air. Godzilla turned and put his scaly body between it and its stranded target, letting out a groan at the impact.

"Godzilla!" Nick called worriedly. But his charge shook himself after the blast and again faced the little boat.

Suddenly another sound began to fill the air, a strangely concussive thrumming. Godzilla shrieked and clapped his enormous claws to his head, as though trying to shake the uncomfortable noise from himself. At the same time, Donatello felt his knees turn to jelly and he gripped the rail to keep himself upright, his bag sliding from him. He was pretty good at enduring pain, since it came with the ninja training, but this seemed to arrest his very coping skills. He fought it.

"Are you okay?" Mendel asked, putting a hand on the turtle's shoulder. To his surprise, Don's skin had gone very, very cold to the touch.

"Whatever that noise is, it's hurting them!" Elsie realized. She turned to say something to Nick, but his eyes were blank – Godzilla's pain was beginning to touch his mind. She could tell he was fighting to remain independent, but it was a struggle.

"We must cease it immediately," Monique said, stepping up close. "But we have lost the capacity to move under our own power."

"I think the G-man has it covered," Randy pointed out. Indeed, Godzilla was angrily spitting fire at Bishop's boat, but between his continued discomfort and Bishop's dodging, he couldn't seem to hit. The noise became even louder and even the humans began to feel pain pounding just behind their ears. Godzilla roared in fury, thrashing in the water.

"Monique, can we get over there?" Nick asked, breathing hard as he broke from the pain that was not his own.

"Not unless you want to swim," she said, nodding at Godzilla's violent churnings in the water.

The volume increased again, and Donatello whimpered. Godzilla crashed into the water, writhing. A wave from his bulk hit the Seeker hard, like a tsunami. The members of HEAT braced for the impact, and the water pulled at them like iron-cold claws. The mini-tsunami washed away every other concern, and it was a breathless moment later before anyone could open their eyes to register the wave's retreat.

"Craven!" Elsie's voice brought Nick out of the bond and the shock of the water. He looked to see the robotics expert, having fallen overboard with the wave, being pulled towards where Godzilla was still thrashing in the ocean. A tail that had destroyed cities could strike the water with the force of a bomb. The lizard would crush him without meaning to, without even knowing he was there.

"Godzilla!" Nick shouted, both vocally and with his mind. But breaking through the pain was going to be difficult, let alone explaining the trouble in the heat of the moment.

A blur to the left and a splash was all the evidence HEAT had of Donatello diving into the water. He was thankful that swimming was one serious benefit of being reptilian, as it meant he could always swim far better than the average human, even hindered as he was by the throbbing pain in his skull from Bishop's sonic weapon. With strong, even strokes, the turtle barreled straight towards Mendel, who was doing his level best to avoid Godzilla's claws and tail. Another shot rang out and shells exploded everywhere. The giant mutation bellowed in anger and pain, spitting green fire in the direction of Bishop's boat but again not hitting it. A much softer cry of pain echoed from the water nearby.

"They're going to get killed!" Randy shouted, pointing at where there was a trickle of blood in the water and Donatello now favoring his left side a little. At the same time, Godzilla's tail came crashing down.

Right onto Mendel. Right onto Donatello, who had almost reached him.

"No!"

The force of the cry shook Nick's body to the core. For a moment, he felt all of Godzilla's pain, and Godzilla felt all of his worry. But the tail was already crashing down against diamond-hard water.

"I'm sorry, Nick." It wasn't words, but the feeling slammed home into his heart as clear as day. And somewhere in the air was the crack of scales meeting ocean with enough force to knock over buildings.


	7. After Effects

Well, my beta reader has finished the story and says she loved it, so barring further computer issues, we're going to try to get chapters up more regularly. I hope this was worth the wait.

As always, I don't own TMNT, Godzilla, or anything else that gets mentioned in this story from some other universe. Neat as it would be, I lack the capital for it. Sigh. Don't sue – as stated, I am lacking in capital.

Enjoy!

* * *

Donatello labored in the water, trying to reach Mendel before it was too late. He looked up to see Godzilla's tail and calculated that he had precisely 13 seconds before it would come into violent contact with the water, and the force of it would probably be fatal to anything even remotely nearby. Though his left leg hurt where it had been hit with something, the turtle put on a burst of speed, enough to catch the flailing doctor's lab coat. As the tail came down, a plan blossomed in his mind.

"I hope I'm not crazy," he said to himself grimly. He wrapped an arm like steel around Dr Caven, positioned his body very precisely, and counted to himself, risking both their lives on the strength of his shell and the skill of his ninja training.

"Four…three…two…one!"

And the tail impacted.

-==OOO==-

"Where'd they go?" Randy asked, looking in the foaming, churning water for either of the two that had been there moments before.

"They can't be…Godzilla would never…" Elsie said, gripping the railing of the Seeker with all her strength as her mouth went suddenly dry.

Nick felt the sorrow still thudding into him from his charge, but there was also a spark of something else – renewed anger. This boat had caused him to bring distress to his parent. For that, it would suffer too. Godzilla wrested his mind from the pain of the subsonic sound and turned his massive head towards the offending craft. This time, his nuclear flames hit their mark, and the boat was engulfed, the eerie sound cutting off abruptly.

"Look!"

Everyone turned at Monique's command, and to their amazement, could see a pair of tiny figures dangling almost comically from Godzilla's enormous tail. Donatello had somehow latched onto the tail and been carried out of the water by it with Mendel clinging to him, apparently without being squashed in the process. As the tail swept close to the HEAT-Seeker, the ninja released his grip, shooting through the air like a sling-shot pebble.

"Here I come!" he shouted. Gripping Dr Craven tightly, Donnie flipped in the air a few times to get control of his momentum and speed, ignoring the frightened noises his passenger made at the antics, and landed on the deck of the Seeker with as much practice as if he'd simply leaped from a particularly high rooftop. Of course, as soon as he came slamming down, he remembered his wounded leg, and it was all he could do not to wince.

"Are you okay, Dr Craven?" Don asked tensely.

"Um…sure," the scientist replied shakily, feeling the deck under his feet and still not quite sure how he'd gotten there, but acutely aware of how close he'd come to being smashed into nothingness.

"What happened to Bishop?" the turtle immediately wanted to know. But his question was quickly answered; though his boat was rapidly burning on the surface of the water, a helicopter had appeared, and a form could be seen on a ladder beneath it. It was making good time away from the island and Godzilla, who was determinedly incinerating whatever remained of the threat.

"Chalk up another win for the G-man," Randy said.

"It makes no sense," Monique cut in. "Why the attack? He was obviously prepared for it, and yet not sufficiently. Why engage us if he lacked the ability to defeat Godzilla?"

"I have a theory," Donnie began.

"Theory later. First we better do something about that," Nick said, pointing at the blood still trickling down his leg.

"And we better call for a ride," Elsie pointed out. "We're stranded."

"We can probably rig something that moves from what we've got left aboard. And my brothers are already on their way, I'm sure," the turtle said. "As soon as I told them Bishop was here they'd have set out. Still, it'll take them at least a couple of hours."

"Let's get you bandaged up then," she replied.

"I will do it."

Everyone looked in surprise to Monique, whose face was not much less impassive than usual. She arched an eyebrow.

"I am sufficiently skilled. He has done good work this day. That is all."

Nick hid a smile, which was more than anybody else did, and Monique pointedly ignored the other faces that were smug with triumph. But Donatello, rather than enjoying this step forward, instead turned to Elsie again.

"Dr Chapman? Would you do me a favor and please test some things for me? I've already configured NIGEL to run the analyses I need. Just…screen my blood and the water, please."

"You got it. And for those antics, you can call me Elsie."

"And you can call me anything you want as long as we never do that again," Dr Craven added. Don smiled at him ruefully before being steered away by Monique. As the three of them made their way below deck, Nick turned to the remaining members of HEAT.

"Mendel? Sure you're all right?" he asked.

"Actually, yeah. Wet," and he sneezed, "but not hurt. I might want to run a few of those tests myself, though. Just in case."

"Do it. Randy and I will see about this," and Nick gestured to the war-torn HEAT-Seeker. Turning then to Godzilla, he called out softly, a tug that was more internal than vocal. The giant lizard, finally satisfied that the threat was gone, lumbered gracefully to where the boat bobbed in the shallows. His bright eyes were fierce and proud.

"Nice work, big guy," Nick said. "And don't worry. I'm okay. We're all okay. But I need you to move the Seeker again." He made a picture in his mind of Godzilla lifting the boat and setting it gently on the nearby sandbar out of the water. Godzilla snorted in return, and with the same care as if he were lifting his parent in his hand, settled the boat securely where Nick had indicated, barely rocking it more than the waves had done.

"Thanks, Godzilla. Are you hurt at all?" Actually, Nick could have answered that question for himself. In his mind, he was dimly aware of a pounding headache that wasn't his, and a nasty aching gash from the rocket Godzilla had intercepted.

"Randy, start working on fixing whatever you can. I'm going to check on him," he pointed upwards. Randy struck off, his usual cheerfulness back. Meanwhile, Nick "talked" Godzilla into settling in the shallow water next to the sandbar so his parent could look at the wound.

Godzilla had been hit by missiles, bullets, and worse countless times. He always healed very quickly and scarred very little, but anything that actually penetrated his thick scales was worthy of examination just in case. This time, it looked like very little damage had made it past the lizard's hide, but there was still blood. Nick reached up carefully, actually getting a ride on Godzilla's foreleg when he proved slightly too short on his own. Feeling around gently, he fearlessly moved his hands in the wound, picking out shards of metal before they became lodged in his skin permanently.

"What's this?"

His fingers came upon something small that was drenched in blood; working carefully, he established its shape and size and drew it out quickly. Nick's heart sank. He held a hypodermic needle, one that had been embedded in the rocket. And which was now empty.

-==OOO==-

"Can't this thing go any faster?"

"Maybe if you stop pacing," Mikey pointed out. The angriest turtle let out a breath and stalked to the back of the helicopter. He wanted his punching bag, and unfortunately nobody would let him use his youngest brother instead.

"Calm down," Leo advised, though his own tension was clear. "We've just got to trust Donnie to handle things until we get there."

"Yeah! If anybody can deal with mutants and Bishop…oh." Michelangelo shrugged. "No, seriously, he'll be fine! He's surrounded by brains! They'll think of something!"

"I, too, am concerned," Splinter said, not opening his eyes from his meditative position, "but I have faith in Donatello. Like all of you, he is a skilled ninja, and extremely intelligent besides. He can and will protect himself well. And, were he truly in danger that threatened his life, I believe we would know. It would not be the first nor the second time your brother's mind has sought mine in moments of his greatest peril."

"What do you mean, sensei?" Leo asked. Even Raphael stopped his irritated pacing to listen.

"He told you, did he not, of the device the Triceratons used to try to gain access to his memories of Dr Honeycutt's whereabouts?" At his sons' nods, he continued, "And did he tell you of how he overcame it?"

"Yeah," Raph said quietly. "That you found him somehow, and protected him from it."

"That is not precisely accurate, for it was not I who initiated the contact. He called for me and I was able to join him, thus lending him the strength to shield him from its effects. It was the discipline of my mind, but the strength of his that allowed me to do so. And when he fell ill recently, at times his mind would brush mine again, and in those moments I could calm the beast that had overtaken him. I am always aware of all four of you, my sons, when I meditate, but I believe your brother may also be aware of us, though he does not often use the ability. If he were again in mortal danger, it is my feeling that we would know."

"But how does Don do it?" Leo asked. Though he felt a slight twinge that he, who studied meditation far more intensely than any of his brothers, had not quite managed the same level of skill, it wasn't jealousy that pricked him. Rather, it was the sense that, unless he mastered what his brother had apparently managed on accident, it was a burden he couldn't carry for Don. Already there was so much the purple-clad turtle did that Leo couldn't help with – the last thing he wanted was one more way in which Donatello had to give up his time or his energy or his focus or even one inch of worry that was really Leonardo's job as eldest and leader.

"Even he cannot answer that question," their father said slowly. "You have all managed to join each other in our minds on occasion, but only when augmented by some outside magic or with my help. Donatello is unique among you in that he can reach my mind alone with no help from any but his own will."

"His brain's so big he can't even fit it all in his head!" Mikey grinned.

"There's only one fathead here, Mike, and it ain't Donnie," Raph replied. "But I'm glad you think he's not in too much trouble, Master."

"Yes. However, I believe the situation we face is not yet as dangerous as it is likely to become," Splinter commented quietly.

"What makes you say that?" Raphael asked.

"Instinct."

-==OOO==-

"Everything checks out," Elsie said, holding out a printout. Donatello took it, eyes scanning back and forth quickly as he looked over her findings. Then he sighed with relief.

"I'm so glad. I've just about had it with this!"

"I take it you have been contaminated before?" Mendel asked from the nearby table.

"Twice. Once I got infected and after a pretty long incubation that acted more like a bad cold than anything else, it destabilized the mutation in my DNA and…well, it was very unpleasant," and here Donnie suppressed a shudder, "but we were able to reverse it. The second time was just a little while ago, and it was much milder. They say third time's the charm, so I'll settle for a benign reaction for once."

"You knew you might have an adverse reaction to the compounds in the water, and yet you willingly entered it to save a life?" Monique had been leaning against a wall nearby after expertly binding his leg, and though she continued to study him, her expression was much less cold.

"Um, yeah." Donnie didn't voice the incredible shock of fear that had run through him as he'd been jumping into the water. He didn't speak about how half the force that had propelled him through the water at such speed had been panic. He couldn't admit how very, very afraid he was to lose his mind again. But somehow, standing on the deck, knowing what would happen to Mendel if someone didn't act fast, he hadn't been able to stay put. Donatello supposed it was Master Splinter's influence – more than training, his father had taught them to defend, and Don had taken those lessons to heart. Against his own fears, the turtle would protect the innocent, even if it meant what he feared the most.

"Okay, that's extra brave, then," Elsie said, arching an eyebrow. "Normally I wouldn't think even a mutant ninja turtle could be tougher than Godzilla, but apparently I'd be wrong. Color me impressed."

"It's not about being tougher, or more foolish, which might also be the case," Donnie said a little sheepishly, thinking about what his brothers would say had they been there to yell at him for taking stupid chances. "It's just about finding out whatever strength you already have, whatever form it takes, and setting that against the problem."

"Nick was right about you after all," Monique commented. Somehow, though the words were complimentary, there was still something superior in her tone. And with that, she abruptly exited.

"Well, looks like the French fry has finally gotten something right," Elsie smiled wryly.

"About time," Mendel nodded. Donatello was about to reply when Nick burst into the space.

"We've got a problem." He held out the syringe. "Bishop did something to Godzilla. He's not showing any effects yet, but…"

Donatello jumped off the table he'd been sitting on and pulled up his laptop. Nick gave the syringe to Elsie, who swabbed it efficiently for samples as Mendel assisted. Nick moved to his own workstation and began booting up his equipment. The four of them, working together, were able to make fast work of the analysis, given that they all had a fair idea of what to look for, and how to get at it. Within an hour, the answer was staring them in the face, not only of the problem, but its solution. At least, it was painfully obvious to the terrapin.

"I guess we should have expected it. It's the same compound in the environment, just tweaked slightly, probably to be more effective against Godzilla." Dr Craven pointed at a sequence of complex molecules on a diagram. "This is the problem. The G-cells in his system will be pretty ineffective against this."

Randy, who had come to see what was going on, looked at the screen.

"Amazing how something so little can cause so much trouble."

"Something you have in common, then," Monique said cuttingly, appearing behind him and causing the hacker to jump.

"Hey! I ain't sorry if you make my heart pound, Monique, but that wasn't what I had in mind."

"Children," Elsie sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, getting back to the point," Mendel continued, "whatever this stuff is, it's going to destabilize Godzilla's DNA from the inside out. Almost like it's rewriting him at the genetic level."

"It's pretty similar to his earlier work," Donatello put in, feeling weight settling on his shoulders. "He's changed it since it first got into the sewers of New York and created all those extra mutations, including me. But it's pretty close to what I got hit with a little while ago, except that it looks like it's going to move a lot faster than mine did."

"What will it do to Godzilla?" Nick asked.

"Well, if Godzilla's experience is anything like what Donnie described," Elsie said hesitantly, "from what we can see here, he'll probably begin mutating again, this time reverting to some more primitive version of his genome, losing intelligence, becoming more unstable."

"So how do we reverse it?"

"Me." Nick looked at Donatello, who shrugged. "The cure Bishop developed for the original outbreak won't work – I already explored that angle. But I got hit with almost this exact thing not long ago. Remember when my emails stopped? Because of what I'd already built up in my system from the first exposure, the compound didn't have much effect besides making me really tired for a couple of days. So if my body already knows how to fight this thing…"

"Then your blood might contain the cure," Monique nodded.

"But you can't possibly produce enough blood to act as a cure against this in Godzilla's body. Given the rate it reproduces, we'd need ten of you just to start giving him a transfusion that would do anything at all." Elsie ran some quick mental calculations. "Even if we let Godzilla eat you whole, it might not be enough."

"Er…great. Did I mention that I don't want to get eaten?"

"Nobody's going to get eaten." Nick rubbed his neck thinking. "But we're going to need to see if we can synthesize whatever is in your blood and make more of it."

"Well, we've done it before. Wouldn't be the first time we've had to work up a cure for Godzilla from something pretty small." Mendel smiled a little. "At least our subject is cooperative and not, you know, out to kill us."

"Are you certain you wish to be used for this purpose?" The question from Monique surprised everyone. Donatello met her eyes calmly.

"Sure. If there's something I can do to help, I'm there."

"Well, roll up your sleeves then, so we can get at your mutant blood!" Randy suggested cheerfully.

"I don't have any sleeves."

"Even easier."

"Cut the comedy, Randy. Elsie, Mendel, you work with Donatello to figure out how to cure Godzilla before he starts experiencing the effects of this stuff. We don't know how much of a time-lag we have to work with before we start to lose him. Randy, Monique, keep working on the HEAT-Seeker. I want us mobile as soon as possible, just in case."

"What about you, jefe?"

"I'll be with Godzilla."

-==OOO==-

Nick sat on the sand, eyes closed. Though worry was bubbling right below the surface of his heart, his mind was surprisingly clear. This may have had something to do with the fact that Godzilla was, for all intents and purposes, almost perfectly happy.

Only a few yards away, the giant lizard was stretched half in and half out of the water, his enormous head and shoulders taking up a large portion of the tiny island. But it wasn't often his parent allowed him to sun himself so fully like this, and he was taking the opportunity to absorb as much warmth as possible. The threat had been eliminated, Nick was safe, and there were plenty of fish if he got hungry. What more was there?

Nick shook his head fondly, amazed at the childlike peace of his charge. Godzilla could be a towering bringer of destruction, and he could also be a simple creature of land and sea, almost playful and innocent. He couldn't even know that at that very moment a compound was spreading through his blood, contaminating him. That any time now he might begin to change, to be lost.

The pang of that brought Nick to his feet. He closed the distance between them and laid a hand on the scaly snout. With his eyes shut, he could almost lose himself in the reptilian mind even with his own mental shielding firmly in place. A twinge told him that someone was approaching; a scent his human nose would never have caught identified it as a particularly large turtle that seemed to be not quite like Nick, but not quite like the ones deep in the water, either. No matter what, it had been respectful of Godzilla's territory, and it seemed to cheer his parent.

Nick opened his eyes to Donatello standing unusually nearby. The biologist had long ago gotten used to the general discomfort of his team to get as near to Godzilla as he did, but Don showed no such hesitation. After a glance as much for permission as advice, the turtle laid his own hand against the somehow similar scales. A smile crept over his intelligent features.

"You're not afraid?"

"No," and Donnie's voice was soft, almost reverent. "He's like us, just kinda bigger and way more awesome."

"I'm glad you think so," Nick said, realizing as he spoke how true it was. HEAT had learned to appreciate Godzilla, but he wasn't sure they'd ever feel quite like he did, like he felt Donatello did, about him. He also idly noticed how his friend had said "us" instead of "me;" it still surprised Nick how very much the turtles considered themselves one unit, not four individuals; it came up in Don's speech patterns all the time. Perhaps that was the difference between being friends and being family, that you were so close you were forever together, even in your own subconscious.

"So, does he tell you how nice the sun is to us cold-blooded types?"

Nick looked sharply at the teenaged turtle, and Donatello smiled sagely and shrugged.

"You can't hide it forever, you know. You're bonded to him, and though I don't know the details, it's pretty clear that it's more than just his having imprinted on you as a hatchling. If I had to guess, I'd say there's a basic psychic link between you, probably strong enough for you to enter each other's minds and speak across species. And it's probably pretty overwhelming to you both sometimes, the differences between you, the huge gap between your mental skills and perspective."

"Yeah," Nick finally breathed. "Yeah, it is."

"You know, I'll bet…well, I'll bet there's something more you can do than what you're doing now. Basic grounding and shielding, right?"

"How…?"

"Let's just say I know somebody with a pretty amazing ability to teach mental gymnastics. And someday I'll introduce you and you can see what I mean."

Unexpectedly, Godzilla shivered. His huge body twitched, his muscles convulsing sharply. At the same moment, Nick felt something wash over him, like a hot bucket of water had been upended above his head. He was vaguely aware of gentle hands helping him sit on the sand, but his mind was truly elsewhere.

Godzilla blinked eyes that were suddenly sleepy, his senses strange. Sight and touch seemed like always, but his sense of smell was suddenly weak, then terribly strong. He could barely smell the sea, and then a scent of spoiling food from within his parent's boat assailed him. Sound was cloudy too, softer and fuzzier than being under water, but then terribly and painfully loud, and before he could hate it, quiet again.

"Nick! Nick, you've got to come back!"

His eyes opened, and Nick was within his own mind again, sitting on sand and leaning against Donatello. The turtle's eyes peered down kindly, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. But I'd guess the compound is starting to activate in Godzilla's system," the turtle speculated. "Is he in pain?"

"No," Nick said, turning his eyes back to his charge. "But he's confused. He doesn't understand why things feel different."

"Come on," Donatello hauled him to his feet. "We've got to find a cure for this, and fast. And we should probably put some distance between you two as well. It won't make a lot of difference – space and time never does – but we can try."

As the turtle supported him on their way back to the HEAT-Seeker, Nick turned to his friend. "Don?"

"Yeah?"

"What you were saying earlier, about knowing somebody who knows grounding and shielding? Any chance they're on their way here with your brothers?" Nick felt his skin go cold as Godzilla's sensation of the warm sun suddenly cut out.

"I'm almost positive." While Nick straightened himself and walked quickly on ahead, determination and a hint of fear in his face, Donatello added silently, "And if I'm right, we're gonna need him."


	8. Flexing the Bonds

Still don't own 'em. Sorry.

Enjoy!

* * *

"This is impossible!" Elsie turned away from her workstation and debated kicking it for good measure.

"What is it?" Nick asked, looking up from his own work after carefully setting down the beaker he'd been trying to pour very slowly.

"It's like a no-win situation. We can't quite isolate the cure from Don's blood, but we can prove that it's effective," she gestured angrily to a shelf lined with petri dishes, each of which was a different sample from Godzilla, each of which had been positively impacted when exposed to the purple-clad turtle's blood. "But the quantities aren't balancing right. At this rate, we're going to need more blood than he could produce in a week for just one dose, and there's no telling how many doses we need."

Nick looked around. The turtle in question was nowhere in sight – Donatello had left to take a walk only a few minutes before, trying to relieve the tension that was definitely contagious. He sighed.

"How's it going trying to dilute Donnie's blood?" he called over to Mendel.

"Not well. It doesn't maintain its chemical integrity even in simple solutions. NIGEL's running an analysis now to see if there's a different base we can use, but so far we're not getting much."

A rumble outside shook the Seeker enough to send a few vials clinking against each other. Godzilla had begun running a fever not long after Nick and Donatello had had their conversation. The mutation was beginning to spread through his system rapidly, and if Donnie's case were an example, they didn't have long before it would overpower the G-cells that normally healed Godzilla so completely. And what might result was something nobody wanted to contemplate.

Nick felt a twinge inside. He could sense Godzilla's pain as what felt like a cold blazed through his system. But he was also dimly aware of a shadow on the edge of their minds. If it were to fall, Nick was not entirely sure that either of them would come out of it whole again.

-==OOO==-

Randy was surprised to hear anyone in the engine room of the HEAT-Seeker, but there was no mistaking the sound of the latch on the door closing softly. Turning, he saw Monique move swiftly to the corner where she stored some of her most "extreme measures" as they called them.

"Yo! What's up?" he called to her. Monique looked sharply at him.

"Nothing. I am simply retrieving something."

The space was dim, lit more by the sunlight streaming through the remaining gashes in the boat's side than the interior lights, but Randy could see the cold expression he most often associated with Monique right before she was about to do something she found personally distasteful but absolutely necessary.

"Um…why exactly do you need to get into the weapons locker?"

"Do not pursue this line of questioning, Randy."

The hacker moved to stand near to her, crossing his arms. "You're getting ready to fight Godzilla if he goes crazy, aren't you?"

No response.

"You can't do that."

"Randy, my orders are clear. If Godzilla becomes a threat, he must be eliminated."

"The G-man wouldn't hurt us, not with Nick here. There's no way."

"Donatello reported to us that when similarly contaminated even he did not recognize his own family. I believe that the risk of Godzilla losing his mind in a similar fashion is plausible."

"But if that happens, then Nick…"

"Exactly. We may well lose them both to madness. Or we may lose one but not the other." There was a hesitation in her voice, but Monique opened the locker anyway and efficiently began checking her equipment.

"Wait. We also don't know what will happen to Nick if Godzilla dies. Didn't you say one time that it might kill him?"

"I did." Her hard eyes met his unflinchingly. "And if that is the choice, the loss of one mutant and one man against a mutant beyond control, then I will make it."

-==OOO==-

Donatello took a deep breath. His perch had been all too perfect to overhear, and the results before he'd needed to leave the lab to think confirmed some of his suspicions.

"Well. Looks like I've got one option left."

-==OOO==-

"Nick, come with me."

The others looked up in surprise at the turtle's form in the doorway. There was a set to his beak that spoke of solemnity.

"What's up?" Elsie wanted to know.

"I've got to borrow Nick for a while. Godzilla's not doing well," and here he nodded to the most recent readings he'd taken on one of his gadgets, "and we've got a short window to do this."

"Do what?" Mendel asked.

"Look, it'll take long enough without explaining. Elsie, use this," and Don handed over his equipment and some notes he'd made. "Try adding that list of chemicals to the base you're working with – see if that gets you better dilution with my blood. Nick," and he actually put a hand on Nick's shoulder and pulled, "you've got to trust me on this."

"What are you going to do?" Elsie pressed, barely glancing at the notes. Nick looked at the ninja's set face, and nodded.

"I think I'm going to learn some introductory mental gymnastics."

-==OOO==-

"Breathe. Find your center. Nothing shared, just yours."

Donatello watched Nick as the doctor slowly fell into a meditative state. He was not the master that his father was, but without his sensei to guide them, he'd have to do his best. He did know, at least, that he couldn't make things worse. When Nick's breathing shifted such that Donnie felt sure his friend was mostly under, he settled himself knee-to-knee with him.

"Okay. Right now, you're you. You're Dr Nico Tatopoulos, no one else. Be the kid who studied science. Be the college guy with a dream. Be you at your core. Nobody else." Donatello didn't dare risk even saying the name "Godzilla" for fear of invoking the bond.

"Embrace what you are, Nick. Let your shielding fall away, for here, in yourself, there is nothing to shield against. Let down the walls of your mind."

Here it was – the telling moment. If Nick was totally overwhelmed by Godzilla in this state, Donatello stood no chance of keeping him separate. And he had to, he had to keep his friend's mind apart from Godzilla's immanent transformation, or the psychic damage could destroy them both forever, even if they did manage to reverse the physical effects on the giant lizard.

Nick went very still, and then relaxed completely, settling into an extremely deep meditative state peacefully. Donatello gave a sigh of relief. So far so good.

"Okay, here we go," he whispered to himself more than anyone else. Bringing his own emotions under control, he dropped into his own meditation, directed by years of experience, training, and a few gut instincts. Honestly, he had no idea what he was doing. And yet, it was a path he had walked within the mind before, and one that, with the evidence of Nick's bond with Godzilla, was more than possible. It was reality. He figured that, as long as it was possible, there was no reason he couldn't achieve it; that was his guiding mantra in everything else, after all, and it wouldn't fail him this time – he was sure of it.

Donatello felt the whoosh of serenity enfold him, and all at once he was within himself, limitless and free. Following the same instinct that had served him before, he began to reach with his will, his mind. After a moment or an eternity, hard to say which, a point of light appeared before him, and still he strove to touch it. All at once, there was a door before him, looking quite like the door to the laboratory on Staten Island. Without hesitation, the turtle pushed the door open and entered.

He had reached Nick's mind.

Having wandered into a world created from the mind of an artist, a couple of different dimensions, several other planets, and one future post-apocalyptic world, Donatello was no stranger to unusual surroundings. He had never before attempted to enter the mind of another – mostly he had only joined his family on a spiritual plane or, just once, spoken with his father across miles of space – but the turtle had seen no other alternative. The facts were simple: Godzilla was succumbing to the new mutation in his system, and as he did, the effects on Nick, while difficult to predict, would be anything but good. Don knew enough about science to know that sometimes the answer did not, in fact, have scientific origins. And while seeking a way to keep his friend from falling into the same darkness that had claimed him while infected by Bishop's cocktail, he hit upon the idea of trying to block out Godzilla's influence on his human parent.

Still, did one's mind usually look so much like one's office? If so, Donatello vowed to clean up after himself more often.

It was as though he had walked into the old ferry building on Staten Island, sort of. To one side, the lab sat as it had every time Donnie had visited – computers running, notebooks and textbooks held open to various pages by way of anything from a pen to a half-eaten apple, the worm farm bathed in a warm light. Tacked to every available surface were pictures, notes, newspaper clippings, and schematics, along with to-do lists and the occasional receipt. A warm light streamed in through the window, though there was no skyline nor ocean beyond.

But the other end of the space, the end used sometimes for storage but more often for couches and relaxation, was something else entirely. Here, the floorboards seemed to melt into a swirly void, as though a black hole had made itself at home in the living-room. Edges of green and orange flashed brightly within the dense clouds that lapped eagerly at the room, though did no harm. Donatello moved closer and could feel alternately blazing heat and icy cold radiating from the obvious evidence of Godzilla in Nick's mind. Still, for all it looked like reality was being twisted and warped into a bottomless, writhing black pit, there was a certain alien serenity about it.

As Donatello watched, something sickly and yellow emerged from the center of the darkness, like oil on the surface of cloudy water. It trickled lazily around, and everywhere it touched, the turtle could have sworn the black and green and vibrant orange shrank back, color dulled and intensity lessened. And yet the spiral moved more rapidly, and where it met the floorboards and walls, a dark stain appeared.

"I understand," Donatello said, mostly to hear something in the oddly silent place. "This is Godzilla's presence, and that yellow stuff is the effects of Bishop's compound on Godzilla's mind. His body will probably get bigger and stronger, like mine did, but his mind is being eroded. And every time it touches him, it changes Nick, too."

"So what do we do?"

The turtle turned to see Nick, dressed in his usual red shirt and cargo pants, standing sort of awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"You made it! I wasn't sure you'd be able to materialize within your own mind, and I wasn't looking forward to doing this on my own," Don admitted. He turned back to the evidence of Godzilla. "Well, honestly, this is the part I'm not so sure about. But if I had to guess, I'd say we need to build a wall between you and him, one nothing can get through, so your whole mind doesn't get distorted along with his."

"If we build a wall, won't that cut Godzilla off from me completely?" Nick crossed his arms and considered. If what Donnie was suggesting meant his charge would be even more confused and lost without the guiding presence of his human parent, it might be more risky overall to separate them than to keep them linked.

"I don't know. We're not removing Godzilla, not totally. Just sort of relegating him to the background," the turtle considered. "He'd still be here, just unable to touch you."

"But if I can't reach him, how do we help him control what's happening? How do we keep him from losing his mind?"

"We can't," Donatello said heavily. "Even I lost myself when Bishop's chemicals transformed me. There probably isn't a lot we can do until we find a cure."

"So you want me to cut him off now, before what's happening to him happens to me?"

"Um, basically. Unless you've got a better idea?" the turtle asked.

"Actually, I do." When Donatello looked questioningly at his friend, Nick shrugged. "Look, I appreciate you trying to help protect me from Godzilla losing his mind, but the fact is that I can't just close him off and watch from the outside. As much as I hate to admit it, the big guy's kind of a part of me now. I can't just leave him. It's as much my job to protect him as it is his to protect me."

"So what are you suggesting?" Don asked, a sinking feeling in his heart. He knew the words that were coming – it was probably what he himself would choose anyway, were he in the scientist's shoes.

"If Godzilla's fighting, I'm going to stay here and try to help." Without much more ado, Nick pulled a chair from a corner and sat down opposite the presence of Godzilla, staring intently.

"Yeah, I guess I should've known you'd say that. All right. I'll stay too. And maybe between the two of us we can figure out a way to keep him stable until your team comes up with the cure," Donatello said as he seated himself on the floor in lotus position. He grinned at the look on the biologist's face. Nick was somewhere between gratitude, worry, and his usual smirk.

"Don, you don't have to do this. And besides, Elsie and Mendel might need your help."

"Maybe," he shrugged, "but I think they've got what they need now, and you're going to need my help a whole lot more."

-==OOO==-

Elsie felt a rush of adrenaline take hold as she examined the readings from the latest sample. "Mendel! I think we've got something!"

"What is it?" he said, deserting his own workbench and leaning over hers.

"The information Donatello gave me seems to be working. He suggested we try a more alkaline base for dilution, rather than a neutral one, and according to this, his blood isn't losing its chemical integrity as much. In fact, it's actually enhancing exactly the proteins in his blood that we need to facilitate the cure. Here," and she passed over his notes. "He's given us a couple of different combinations to try, but he was definitely onto something!"

"Where does that kid come up with this stuff?" Craven asked, scanning the pages with interest. "I've known a ton of biologists who couldn't piece this together, and he's not even 20 years old. He's not even a biologist! He told us himself he's more of an engineer."

"Feeling outclassed, Mendel? Let's just be glad he's on our side," Elsie smiled, moving to a cabinet for some different chemicals. "I'll start on the first one – you mix up the second and we'll see which works better with our sample." A sound caused her to pause in her preparations, a deep thrumming that originated outside the HEAT-Seeker.

"What is that?" Craven's voice, which could shift from calm to terrified so quickly, was only a little hysterical at the unknown.

A heartbeat later, Randy crashed into the lab. "Come on. We've got a problem!"

There were plenty of times Elsie and Mendel didn't take Randy seriously. He was, in fact, known for playing pranks, being overly-dramatic, and generally playing up any given situation if it amused him. But they also knew him well enough to know when he wasn't doing any of those. There was something in the tone of his voice, the set of his jaw, the wideness of his eyes, that was as clear a tell as any he'd ever faked in poker. Reading these in him now, both scientists abandoned their work without hesitation and followed. The noise got louder as they climbed up on deck, and more familiar. Randy led them to the bow, which afforded a lovely view of quiet sea, sunny sky, and warm sand.

And Godzilla. Who was the source of the noise.

The giant lizard seemed to have woken entirely out of the stupor he'd been in since the fight. The sound was the noise of claws on scales as Godzilla scratched savagely at the gash Bishop's rocket had left in his side. He was huffing with distress as well, which was not too different from how he sounded when angry, but with a hitch in his breath.

"What is happening?" Monique demanded, joining them at the rail.

"I'd say our grace period just ran out," Mendel answered. "Looks like he's beginning to suffer the same effects Donatello did."

"How much time do we have?" Randy wanted to know.

"Not long. Donatello told us his onset of symptoms progressed more slowly, but once it got bad enough, he said he transformed within minutes. Come on," Elsie commanded. She turned and rapidly made for the lab below. "We've got to take what we've got and make it work, like now."

"Right," Mendel nodded, following. "Keep an eye on him, and let us know if you see any physical signs of change; Donatello said he grew to twice his normal size when he mutated. If that happens, yell."

"Twice his size? You bet I'll yell," Randy saluted, his good humor back. As long as Elsie and Craven were working on a cure, they'd come through in time. They always had. He just needed to convince himself that he was sure.

"If you see signs that he is changing, alert me as well," Monique told him coldly.

"You can't kill him!" Randy shot back.

"Hopefully, I will not have to."

-==OOO==-

"Shell, that can't be good."

Nick opened his eyes to see what had caused Donatello to break the silence, then felt his throat go dry, if throats can go dry when you're a projection within your own mind, anyway. The whirling presence of Godzilla was twisting fiercely, its alien serenity in chaos. Then, without warning, the yellow film that had been moving slowly exploded. As though a plug had been pulled somewhere, the foreign element spread rapidly over the green, enveloping and affecting it with a rush.

"Godzilla!"

"Nick, come on!" Don was on his feet now, and he hesitated only a second before he stepped forward. "Concentrating isn't going to stop it now. We've got to remove it directly."

"How?" the scientist asked. He decided he didn't like playing with these metaphysics; while intriguing and certainly helpful in this situation, they defied too many laws of science that were so crucial to the rest of his mind.

"Um, well, unless you've got a better idea…" The turtle took a breath and then, trying not to think about the possible consequences for what he was about to do, he reached forward. Both Nick and Don had made a very deliberate effort not to come in contact with Godzilla in here, in case they were drawn into his chaotic mind, but he could think of no other way. He knew that the whole scenario was unpredictable at best, but the chances for extricating himself completely were a lot less if he went through with what seemed to be the only option left. Hopefully this would not be the last theory he would have a mind to test. Without giving himself a chance to hesitate, Donatello plunged his hands into the strangeness before him.

It was as if he had been hit by lightning. Alien sounds, smells, memories, perspectives suddenly inundated the ninja. He was swimming in the ocean, spitting fire, raging with bloodlust and content with the security of his nest. He was huge, he was confused, he was young, he was hungry. It was too much, too big. He wasn't supposed to be this way, but he didn't know why. Wait…he came here to do something. What was it?

A memory floated from far away, though it didn't seem like his. He couldn't be that small, nor could he think that way. But nonetheless, an image of brushing water off something that was not water came to him. Perhaps that was what he came here to do. But what was water and what wasn't? Something was wrong, something was not a part of him. That must be the part that had to be removed. But how?

And then there was a new firmness in his mind, a new set of memories that couldn't be his, though they were there. They seemed more confident, less confused. They were not overwhelmed by how big he was. They guided him. Yellow. He didn't know what it meant, but he somehow knew what it was. Pull the yellow away. That was what he'd come here to do.

Somehow.

-==OOO==-

"Oh!"

"What is it, sensei?" Leo called from his seat. Raphael was already at Master Splinter's side, his pacing abruptly cut off once more.

"Donatello is…gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" Mikey demanded, a touch of hysteria in his voice.

"Master Splinter, you don't mean…?" Raph began, cold dread in his stomach.

"No, I do not believe so," he quickly cut off the question he didn't even want to hear asked. "But his mind has journeyed to where I cannot reach him. I have been monitoring him, in case he had need of me again. And between one moment and the next, all my sense of him vanished. There was no fear, no pain or loss. Whatever has occurred, I believe it was with your brother's consent. However…"

"However," and steel crept into Leo's voice, "we need to be sure of that."

-==OOO==-

"I've got it!" Elsie's voice was so loudly triumphant that Randy heard it from his lookout on the HEAT-Seeker's forward deck. Randy was just turning to shout a congratulations back to her when an ear-splitting roar interrupted him. Spinning back to Godzilla, the hacker was horrified to see the giant mutant launch himself to his feet, bellowing wildly. He peered closer. Yes, the muscle near the site of infection was rippling strangely, bulging out with a furious and painful-looking rapidity. Godzilla seemed more confused than ever, looking around wildly and snorting tiny sparks of radioactive fire like a bull about to charge.

"Good thing! Because the G-man is about to need a bigger island!" he yelled back, hoping he could be heard over the lizard's noise.

Elsie and Craven appeared on deck a few moments after, Elsie in the process of emptying a syringe into a tranquilizer dart, one strong enough to penetrate Godzilla's hide. Monique was at their heels, openly armed with several firearms, including a weapon Randy had hoped never to see again. There were few things that could kill the giant mutant lizard – thankfully, or unfortunately, Monique possessed one.

"What's that for?" Mendel asked, spotting Monique.

"Insurance," she replied shortly.

"This ought to at least slow him down long enough for us to get more of the antidote into him," Elsie said, loading the dart. "It isn't much, but I'm hoping it'll buy us enough time to replicate it with what we have."

A blast of fire overhead, barely missing the HEAT-Seaker, caused them all to duck instinctively. Godzilla was beginning to stumble around, but his legs looked wrong. Thick somehow, and uneven.

"You begin work on a larger dose. I will attempt to deliver this," Monique ordered, taking the gun from her.

"Um…guys?"

At Randy's voice, everyone turned. Godzilla was staring at them, his eyes a strange red color. He hunched low so that his snout was almost level with them. Normally, when he drew so near, they could be calm – Godzilla was an ally, and among other things, would never harm them because of Nick. But Nick wasn't here, and from the looks of it, the Godzilla they had known and trusted as much as they dared was not present either. Fear seized them, and nobody so much as thought of breathing.

And then the world exploded.


	9. Battle on the Beach

Thanks everybody who has become a fan of this humble work in the last few weeks! Apparently I should post more in general, because with every update I've made recently, older stories have gotten more attention. Kinda nice, that.

As always, don't own the TMNT or Godzilla and HEAT or anything else with a previous owner in this work of fanfiction. Just borrowing them for a much-needed spin around my imagination.

Enjoy!

* * *

Spinning, falling, confusion. Fire and blood and pain and food. Sensations too big to be believed or even felt. Memories too strange to be understood.

And underneath it all, a burning rage. A rage that would burn from the inside out, consuming everything in its path.

No!

Never consume everything! Never rage at...at…a memory pieced itself together. Someone. Parent? Friend? Oneself? Impossible to say, as they all seemed true and all seemed wrong at the same time, but whoever that was, they must not be destroyed in rage. They must be protected. They must be spared the rage.

But the rage was already boiling.

Get away!

GET AWAY!

-==OOO==-

He opened his eyes, his heart quaking. He was himself. He was Donatello, mutant turtle, brother to three others, son to their sensei. Genius, engineer, student of the sciences. Practitioner of ninjutsu. Friend to April, Casey, Leatherhead, and others. Including a scientist named Nick.

"Nick!" Donatello rolled from where he'd fallen and looked. He was in the office on Staten Island. No, that couldn't be right – they were in the middle of the ocean. Then he looked more closely and realized he was still within Nick's mind.

A pace to his side, Nick twitched and sat up. He looked as disoriented as Don had felt, but his eyes quickly cleared.

"What happened?"

"If I had to guess," Don began, "I'd say we got really lucky."

"We were in Godzilla's mind, weren't we?" Nick asked. "It wasn't too bad at first, and then I felt like I had been eradicated, that all there was wasn't me. It hasn't been like that since the very beginning, when we first got this bond thing forced onto us."

"Yep. The virus has really started to take over, and it almost took us with it! We couldn't stay separate from him – he was too much for both of us. I think Godzilla's the one who threw us out, when he, or we, whatever, realized his mind would destroy you." Donatello shuddered again. "Came pretty close, actually. Good thing the big guy's fond of you."

"So now what?" Nick looked back towards the presence of Godzilla. The spiral of his mind was now fully clouded, covered in a thickness that was wrong, wrong on every level. But the spiral was also much smaller – it had pulled back from the walls and floor of the "office" and now floated in mid-air no larger than the TV.

"The mutagen in his system is taking hold," Don said. "He's losing himself, but I think he's trying to keep it from spreading to you."

"How does he know how to do that?"

"Um…I'm not sure. Ask me later," the turtle dismissed him hurriedly. "If Godzilla's being lost, we have to do something to protect your mind and fast. And then we've got to get out of here and start helping the others."

"I still don't want to wall him off," the biologist said, "but I don't have much choice, do I?"

"You can't help him now. Neither of us can. He's past the point we can influence. Now," and the ninja's hand on Nick's shoulder was steadying, "focus. This is still your mind, Nick. Build a wall, and quick. Create it out of whatever comes to you."

Nick closed his eyes and did the first thing that came to mind. It took a moment, and when he felt the warmth of Godzilla suddenly vanish, he opened his eyes to Donatello's bewildered face.

"What?"

"An aquarium? Really?" Donatello sighed, a smile threatening to break the otherwise serious situation. Indeed, the spiral of Godzilla's psyche was now held in a clear tank almost identical to the one that held his worm-farm, albeit bigger and floating.

"What's wrong with that?" Nick wanted to know.

"Never mind," Don shook his head. "As long as it holds."

-==OOO==-

This was just about the last thing Monique had been expecting, and she hated surprises more than anyone she had ever met. The prospect of Godzilla turning feral and attacking them had been logical and even likely – for that, she was prepared. The return of the man Donatello had called Bishop was also not without possibility, and she had considered its likelihood. But to be overrun out of nowhere by dozens of black-clad men wielding weaponry ranging from conventional firearms to what looked like massive tranquilizer guns – that she had not anticipated.

"What's going on?" Craven whimpered. His eyes were wide at the sight of so many foes spreading across the tiny sandbar like black waves, and he still didn't know where they had appeared from. At their head, a man strode with a long black coat flapping in the hot wind, obviously in command. He smiled up at the four on the bow of the boat.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Bishop, and I believe you know a friend of mine."

"What do you want?" Randy yelled.

"I won't hurt you, don't worry. I'm only interested in your very large friend," and he indicated Godzilla, who had turned his attention to the soldiers crowding his personal space, "and your smaller turtle friend. You just stay out of the way and we won't have any problems."

"Oh, I think we do have a problem!" Elsie shouted back, bristling.

"Then this will be less pleasant." He turned away from them and addressed his men, pointing to the place across the sandbar where Donatello and Nick sat, still doing whatever they were doing. "Take the turtle into custody, and the doctor too. If their friends try to interfere, prevent them."

"Monique?" Mendel said, asking about six questions in the one word.

"Elsie, go below and work on your cure with Craven. Be ready to administer it on my command if you can. Randy, distract them, do anything you can to keep them away from the Seeker. I will protect those two."

"What about Godzilla?" Elsie wanted to know.

"I think the G-man can take care of himself!" Randy pointed out, indicating how, even confused, off balance, and definitely feeling poorly, the mutant lizard was easily avoiding the men crowding around his feet and sweeping the annoying ones aside with his tail.

"Indeed. Now go!" And Monique was moving as fast as she could, swinging herself to the sand and sprinting forward towards Nick and the turtle, attempting to cut off Bishop's men before they arrived.

"I suggest you drop this line of attack," she said in her angriest, coldest voice. Out of Dr Tatopoulos's respect for life she did not often use lethal force, but she would not hesitate to use the weapons already in her hands to defend him if it came to that. She settled into a fighting stance and waited.

They rushed her, probably six of them at once, all skilled and well-trained. In an instant, Monique had slammed an elbow into an unprotected throat and twisted a knee into a kidney. They were good, but not better than she. However, they had the superior numbers. Even as she dispatched one and blocked the intended blow of another, she wondered how many she could defeat, especially if the dozens of men turned their attention away from Godzilla to help their few comrades sent to procure her friends.

A moment later, a sneaky punch hit her square in the jaw and she bounced backwards in pain. She felt blood at the edge of her mouth and her resolve tightened. They would not get past her – she would die first. Or they would die.

Monique drew the gun she had kept slung across her back, not the one at her hip that was specific to Godzilla, nor the tranquilizer at her other side, and leveled it at the men. It was a line she had never crossed in defense of HEAT, but today, apparently was the day for it. Several of the armed agents drew weapons of their own, and Monique realized that without cover, she could be cut down very quickly. Still, she had few other options.

"Now, that's no way to treat a lady!"

Monique looked up in surprise. In all the fighting, she hadn't heard the sound of it, but above her hovered a helicopter that had to belong to the turtles. It was, in fact, green. A rope ladder dropped, and two forms leaped from the open door to flank her on the ground.

"Mind if we cut in?" Raphael's voice was nearly savage as he drew his sai and flicked them expertly. Monique was suddenly gratified that the turtle felt so angry. His anger, like hers, would probably fuel him well.

"Yeah, quit hogging the bad guys!" Michelangelo quipped, grinning. "Besides, Leo wants to talk with you." He took in the scene. "This is like Gilligan's Island, but with monsters," Mikey said, his eyes on Godzilla. "And bad guys. So…maybe not so much like Gilligan's Island. Anyway…"

The French agent blinked at him, then nodded as he broke out of his odd monologue to indicate that she could climb. "Defend them well," and she gestured to Donatello and Nick behind her, "or I shall not be so friendly."

"Don't worry," Michelangelo replied. "We got this."

"Yeah. Nobody's gettin' through to our brother and his buddy," and again, the rough fury in his words was enough. Monique believed them. Without a backwards glance, she scaled the rope ladder.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this," Leonardo said from where he was piloting when she was aboard, "but we couldn't raise Don on the Shell Cell and it looks like you need help. What's the situation?"

"Your Agent Bishop is here," and she saw the turtle's grip tighten until she thought the metal should bend in protest, "and Godzilla is beginning to mutate as your brother did."

"Do you have a cure?"

"One dose, yes. Here," and she gestured to the dart gun.

"You'll need this to get in close to Godzilla, won't you? Especially with Bishop's goons down there making a mess. I can get us over there, but I'm no pilot. That's Donnie's thing," Leonardo admitted.

"If this is designed as I suspect," Monique slid easily into the co-pilot's chair and examined the controls quickly, "I should be able to pilot it sufficiently. If you feel you can hit Godzilla in one shot, I will manage the helicopter."

"Okay, then I'll take the shot," Leonardo said, preparing to ease out of his place and turn the helicopter over to Monique.

"Are you certain your skills are enough? You must strike where he is already wounded, he is a moving target, and you will have only one opportunity." Even as she took over piloting and began directing the aircraft towards the large mutant, as she relinquished the correct rifle to him, her eyes cut to the turtle's and the harshness of her gaze hit him.

"Trust me." Leonardo's voice was suddenly both commanding and calm. "If we don't get this into Godzilla, he'll go the way Donatello did. He'll be a danger to my family. I won't miss." He met her eyes unflinchingly.

"Very well," and she turned back to the controls. Though her face remained impassive, inside, Monique felt a certain cool respect blossom. Donatello had shown bravery and selflessness along with his obvious intellect, and had, as such, won her notice. Raphael had demonstrated a fierce loyalty. And in Leonardo she knew she was witnessing the best qualities of a warrior – focus, insight, strength, and the will to bend any limitations in pursuit of victory. She still would have preferred to take the shot herself, but if she had no choice but to trust another with it, there were a precious few individuals she would accept in her stead. Perhaps these turtles were worth considering as she had considered their brother already.

"When we're done here," the turtle's voice came to her from farther back in the helicopter as Leonardo got into position at the open door, "can you swing back around so I can join my brothers?"

"Yes. I will use this craft to otherwise antagonize our enemy," she replied. "Are you concerned about them?"

"Nah," and the confidence in his voice was warm. "They've got a few surprises for Bishop's guys. But it's my job to protect them, and with Bishop around, I need to be there."

"I understand." And she did, all too well.

-==OOO==-

"How'd they get so many guys out here, anyway?" Mikey shouted as he tossed two agents into four more and blocked a kick from behind.

"Who knows? Ask the brainiac," Raph called back, disarming another and knocking his lights out with a fist. "Here's the question I got," and he paused to throw a sai, and then a punch, in the direction of someone getting too close to Donatello. "How come they ain't shooting at us?"

"Don't look a gift goon in the mouth, Raph!" The orange-clad turtle grunted as he was momentarily pinned by two men, but a flip and kick quickly freed him. The two, almost sheepishly, drew their guns. "And thanks for reminding them!"

"No prob!" Raphael spared a glance backwards. Donatello still sat knee to knee with Nick, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Suddenly he realized that a small contingent had broken away from the others, and five agents were about to strike. He couldn't extricate himself quickly enough. Anger, and a trickle of fear, welled up inside.

"Don!"

The lead agent was within a few paces of Donatello when he leveled his own tranquilizer gun at the turtle. But as he began to pull the trigger, a blur appeared in the air above him, and then the gun was in two pieces, the agent was down, and the next two attackers were attempting to defend themselves.

"You will not harm my son!" Splinter easily dispatched the third and set himself between the remaining two agents and the pair still in mediation. If the agents had turned to fight Raphael and Michelangelo, the rat would have permitted them to leave; however, they brandished their own weaponry, and he flew at them. Moments later, they joined their fellows on the sand. Looking up, he realized how very many more agents there were, and how many were beginning to turn their attention to the altercation. Though most remained with Bishop in attempting to subdue Godzilla, or at least bother him sufficiently, a dozen more moved to join their battle.

"Donatello, my son, you must return to us." Master Splinter knelt down beside them, speaking gently. "There is danger, and your brothers need your assistance." Although he could have woken his son directly, Splinter decided against it. Whatever Donatello was doing, he was doing it with good reason, and pulling him out of meditation unwillingly, especially without knowing precisely what the genius turtle was doing, could be disastrous. However, he had other means of reaching the turtle.

"My son, hear my voice and rejoin us." The words were whispered aloud, but Splinter cast them forward from within, seeking the mind of his second son. In such a heightened and deep mediation, he knew it would take little for a talented mind such as his to hear.

"Father," the purple-clad turtle's voice sounded in his mind.

"Yes, Donatello. If you can, you must wake. Your brothers need you."

"I'm coming, sensei."

A moment later, the turtle's whole body seemed to tense, then settle once more, and his eyes slid open. He spared just a moment to meet his father's eyes with a smile, then turned his attention to the young man before him.

"Nick, wake up," Don said gently. Since had put Nick into the meditation, he could bring him out again. In fact, Nick probably didn't entirely know how to wake. "Nick," he said again, calling a little more firmly. He set a hand on the man's shoulder, and was gratified to see his eyes open.

"Don…What…?" Nick shook his head, then noticed the new individual only inches from himself. "Who is…?"

"This is Master Splinter, but there's no time to explain," Donatello said, pulling Nick to his feet. They both took in their surroundings. At the other end of the sandbar, Godzilla was obviously in pain, his body showing definite signs of mutation. Swarms of black-clad agents surrounded him, but they seemed unable to do much to him – mostly, they got knocked into the water by his tail or limbs, or when dodging his fire, which seemed to be more and more difficult for him to control. Only a few yards away, Raph and Mikey battled to keep another group of agents from reaching them. Near to the HEAT-Seeker, Randy appeared to be taunting still more agents, and flinging them off the boat whenever he could. Above, the turtles' helicopter was making a beeline for Godzilla, maneuvering expertly to avoid tail both tail and fire.

"Godzilla!" Nick shouted. The answering silence in his mind was deafening, and he began to step forward until he felt a furred hand grasp his wrist. The rat beside him indicated a crowd of agents about to rush the trio. His calm face spoke volumes: they needed to act on their immediate safety at once, and worry about other circumstances after.

"Where did all these guys come from?" Nick asked. Don shrugged and drew his bo. Splinter set himself beside his son, between the turtle and the human. The two mutants shared a look, and Don nodded at his sensei. Immediately Nick found himself behind the rat. He looked questioningly at Don, who shrugged again before turning back to the situation at hand.

"I think the better question is – how do we get out of here?"

-==OOO==-

"Are you ready?" Monique called back to the turtle as she made what she hoped was the final pass.

"As ever," he replied, steadying himself on the doorframe and aiming the gun carefully. It was pretty heavy-duty, better quality than what Don had created for them against the outbreak virus, but it handled basically the same. And in his hands, that was enough.

Godzilla turned suddenly, noticing the helicopter for the first time. He released a jet of green flames that felt painfully hot, even as Monique dodged them with relative ease. Leo reminded himself that the mutant before him shot radioactive fire, not normal fire, and decided that getting singed was probably not a good idea. But a small explosion, probably from a grenade below, drew the lizard's attention once more. As he switched targets, his side was suddenly exposed.

"Now!" Monique shouted. Without hesitating, Leo tracked the wound in his side that was his target, noticing at once how relatively small of a target it was, and fired. He felt the familiar hitch in his chest as he momentarily doubted himself. But the shot was true, and the thick dart impacted and disappeared within the already-open wound. Godzilla howled.

"Well done," Monique said, allowing a touch of approval into her voice. "Now, rejoin your clan. I will see what your craft can do to assist us. If a retreat is in order, I will retrieve everyone on the deck of the HEAT-Seeker."

"Will do!" Leonardo smiled grimly. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

-==OOO==-

"I think they got him!" Randy shouted to anybody who was listening.

From his vantage point, he could see Monique flying the green helicopter – Randy couldn't get over the coolness of the gadgets Donatello and his brothers had! – and from the looks of things, she was going to become a serious pain in the neck to the bad guys in black pajamas. Arcing out wide, a green shape fell from the chopper to land back near where Nick and Don had been. Randy sucked in his breath before realizing that it was the blue-clad brother, Leo, and the turtle was in no danger falling from such a height. Watching the ninja land and enter into the battle, cutting down any who opposed his sword, the hacker grinned. This was awesome!

Or not.

Because a moment later, the whole situation seemed to change. On the one hand, Randy saw Nick and Donnie emerge from where they'd been sitting so long, entering the fray alongside the others. But on the other hand, a new group of agents had appeared and were preparing to make the fighters' lives more difficult. This time, however, Randy had been looking in the right direction at the right time. To his astonishment, a portion of the sand not far from the HEAT-Seeker had slid away to reveal a metal hatch.

"A secret lab? Out here?" Randy looked around to confirm – they were miles from the mainland. Why on earth would there be a military installation out here, under water, pretending to be a sandbar? "And just our luck to park on top of it," he sighed.

A roar drew his attention back to the main event, the battle between Godzilla and the tiny figures that seemed intent on annoying him. The G-man shook his head back and forth as though he had something in his eyes, but the bulging of his muscles was calming and his legs looked more normal, well, normal for him; apparently the drug was working a little. But he wasn't reverting to himself completely, and his eyes were still red.

"Hey guys! I think we need more chicken soup for the lizard soul!" he yelled backwards to the lab below.

"Hey up there!"

Randy looked to see Donatello take out a few more agents with his bo before leaping up the deck. "That is still so cool when you do that," the hacker said enviously.

"What's the situation?"

"All quiet on the Seeker front. And the cure seems to be doing, well, something," he pointed. "I think we need more of it, though."

"I'll go check on Elsie and Dr Craven, then. Keep a look-out, okay?" Donatello asked, throwing a worried glance to where his family continued to fight below, keeping the agents away from the HEAT-Seeker and Nick. "If something happens, let me know."

"Yes, sir, Your Turtle-ness!" Randy saluted, smiling. Don smiled back and headed below.

"That's me, the lookout, the watcher, the fearless, observant…" Randy began. But the cold, unmistakable feel of a gun suddenly pressed against his temple silenced him.

"Perhaps less chatter would render you a better guard."


	10. Barter System

...Running out of clever ways to provide a disclaimer. Pretend I thought of one.

Enjoy!

* * *

"How's it going in here?" Donatello asked as he entered the lab.

"A lot better with your help," Elsie called over her shoulder. The turtle immediately returned his bo to its place on his shell and joined her at the table. "The information you gave us was a good start, but by my calculations we're going to need a lot more formula than just that one dart we made."

"How much more?"

"According to this," Mendel said, swiveling in his chair to face them, "about 60 gallons to completely eradicate the compound from his bloodstream."

"That's more than an oil drum!" Donatello exclaimed. "Do you have the supplies here to make that much?"

"No," Elsie replied. "We can make about 20% of it, though. We'll have to get the rest from somewhere else. We're mixing what we can, in the hope that it will stabilize him enough for now."

"A good plan."

All three scientists whirled at the new voice. In the doorway stood Agent Bishop, who levied a gun and pointed it directly at Elsie. He shoved Randy into the room before him, the hacker sporting a new bruise on the cheek.

"Sorry, guys," he apologized, joining them.

"Bishop!" Donatello tensed, but with the gun, he didn't dare move. Not yet. He could probably protect one of them from a shot if he had to, but without some back-up the odds weren't good that they would all get out unscathed, especially given Bishop's ridiculous and inexplicable strength and speed.

"Dr Elsie Chapman. Dr Mendel Craven. The pleasure is all mine," Bishop said conversationally. His words were eerily out of place, considering the otherwise coldness of his expression and the intimidating battle suit that was visible under his coat.

"You're right the pleasure's all yours," Elsie snapped. Her ire was up, and she was in no mood for games. "What are you doing here? Why did you attack us? What do you want?"

"All fair questions," Bishop quirked another half-smile. "But the first two must wait for another time. As to your third, I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" Craven asked, suddenly more indignant than afraid. "You shot at us, you poisoned Godzilla, almost got me killed, then you came back with an army, and now you want to talk? Does this make any sense?" he asked the world at large.

"We hang out with mutants and you're doing science with a giant turtle and you think a government agent cutting a deal is weird?" Randy asked, trying to make his voice light.

"I don't have time to waste with you," Bishop said, twitching the gun towards Mendel, causing him to gulp audibly. "You will listen to my proposition and then you will choose." The glasses hid his eyes such that it was difficult to tell which of the four he was looking at, but Donatello had a sinking suspicion that whatever decision Bishop was talking about would be his.

"We're listening," the turtle said, still not making any obvious moves but tensing with every second. Half a dozen plans whipped through his mind. None of them were good, but hopefully one would serve to at least get his friends out safely.

"Godzilla's transformation has been slowed, but it will continue. From what I have overheard, you have an antidote, but it seems not the resources to produce it. I can provide whatever quantities of chemicals you require immediately, thus preventing Godzilla from harming anyone or leaving the area before you are able to cure it. I will even permit you to produce your cure and administer it without interference."

"What's the catch?" Elsie asked.

"Donatello, you will join me as I vacate this area, and you will not alert your brothers as to the nature of our deal or permit them to interfere. I will require your word on your honor."

Don's stomach went suddenly cold even as sweat broke out on his forehead, and his tense muscles twitched. Go with Bishop? Alone? The possibilities were exponential for how dangerous that was, for what it would entail. For what Bishop might do to him.

"You're going to trade Godzilla's cure for Donatello?" Dr Craven was bewildered.

"What are you going to do with him after you leave here?" Randy wanted to know.

"That is none of your concern," Bishop replied, the smirk returning. "Do we have a deal?"

"No way!" The red-head's face twisted in fury. "We don't give up friends as ransom. We can get the chemicals we need without your help."

"Yes, but how quickly?" When Elsie didn't reply immediately, Bishop's smirk grew larger. "What will happen to Godzilla before then? Can you guarantee he won't leave here and attack a populated area? And don't forget, my team is here, and we can choose to make the process more difficult for you."

"Still, we're not just going to hand over…" Craven began.

"Yes, we are."

The only one not surprised by Donatello's sudden statement was Bishop himself. Elsie, Randy, and Mendel turned to him in shock.

"You don't mean that!" Elsie exclaimed.

"Yes, I do," and he sighed. "He's got us boxed in. The shot you gave Godzilla won't last much longer, and he'll start to mutate again. He could hurt all of you, and then waltz to the East Coast and do some serious damage to whole cities of innocent people before you have the chance to clear the outbreak virus from his system. We have to stop him now. There's no other way to get the cure fast enough."

"You've got your chopper," Randy put in.

"Which Bishop can probably shoot down any time he wants." Donatello gripped the edge of the table to keep his hands from shaking. Over and over he ran their scenario through his mind. They had to cure Godzilla and now, before he was lost any farther to the mutation. Any time, any second, he could turn on the turtles or Master Splinter or even Nick, the same way Donatello had when infected, and there wouldn't be a whole lot they could do about it. Godzilla would be a thousand times more difficult to contain than Don himself had been – it was only a matter of time before he escaped and hurt someone. Don couldn't let that happen.

"What makes you think this guy'll even keep this promise?" Randy asked.

"He will. He always does what he says he'll do. It's a weird moral thing," the turtle shrugged.

"Your family would never agree to this, Donnie," Elsie said. Mendel nodded.

"I know. And if there were any other way…" he trailed off. He scowled at Bishop's smile.

"You also know I can order every one of my men to turn on your family," the agent said, his voice like ice. "There's no escape here, no cover, no ducking into the shadows. If you attempted to flee with the other turtles and your sensei, it is likely you would succeed if you abandoned everything else. But you won't do that; with the civilians here, and with Godzilla, your family is trapped. The only way out for them is through me."

Don took a deep breath. He wished one of his brothers were here. Even if he had no choice but to agree, he wanted their input. Or at least to have a moment to meet their eyes, gain strength from them, tell them somehow what was in his heart. He could only hope they would understand. The HEAT team was just collateral in his family's war against Bishop, even Godzilla was collateral. It was his responsibility to protect them, to get them out of what he had inadvertently brought down on them. And if the worst happened, at least his family would have HEAT on their side, just in case.

"All right. You have my word that I'll come with you and my brothers won't get in your way." He drew his bo, and handed it to Elsie. "Bishop won't let you tell the guys about this yet, I'm sure. But when you can, tell them everything. I'm counting on them. I don't really want to be part of Bishop's carpool for long." He leaned over to the notes the two scientists had been working from and added one quick formula. "And this will help you get an even more effective antidote if you add this compound right before administering it to Godzilla." He tried to smile at her. "Take care of, well, everybody for me, okay?"

"I'll need to see that formula to know what to provide," Bishop's voice was cold and yet triumphant. Swallowing hard, the terrapin copied down the whole antidote from memory onto a piece of paper and moved to hand it to the agent.

"Don, you're crazy!" Mendel grabbed the turtle's arm. "You can't go with this guy! What if he decides to dissect you or something?"

"He probably will," Don replied, trying to keep his voice calm, and mostly succeeding. Mendel's eyes widened in horror.

"Then, why…?" Randy began.

"Because I've got no choice. It's the best way to protect my family, you guys, and Godzilla." He began moving towards Bishop again, his breathing getting tighter and the cold in his stomach growing with every step. And the wicked satisfaction on the agent's face was not helping his frame of mind at all.

"Donnie!" The anguish in Elsie's voice made him turn once more. The pain and fear and loss in the turtle's eyes slammed into her gut and she flinched at his expression.

"Tell Nick how to help Godzilla. Tell my family why I'm doing this. And tell them I'm sorry."

-==OOO==-

"What is goin' on here?" Raph demanded. "This is gettin' out of hand! How did they get all these guys here?"

"I don't know, but I'd sure like to find out," Leonardo replied, the three turtles settling shell-to-shell. Nearby, Master Splinter cleared a path and indicated that Nick should join them. He had proven himself able to fight one-on-one, but the scientist was totally outmatched when faced with more than a few opponents, and he wasn't quite in the same sort of shape they were – he was definitely getting tired. He was just as glad to have the turtles on his side.

"Hey! Look!" Michelangelo yelled.

At his shout, everyone turned. The swarms of agents who had been crowding Godzilla had backed off, as if a sudden retreat had been ordered. The giant lizard was swiping at the helicopter Monique was flying, and seemed not to notice his ground assailants' absence. Even the crowd that had been preparing to strike the ninja group relented. But his attacks were less and less effective, as though he were slowly succumbing to a tranquilizer cocktail at last.

For a moment, the three turtles found themselves simply staring. Like Don, they had only ever seen Godzilla on the news or the internet, or from a great distance while out for a run that was always immediately called short. None of them had his fascination for their mutant cousin, but he held them spellbound for a moment anyway. Even injured, obviously in some kind of distress, and not at his top form, his sheer power was compelling. He was within a city block from them, they could feel the heat of his flames and the force of his steps rumbling around them. Leo, Raph, and Mikey exchanged wordless glances in perfect unison, all thinking the same thing. They finally really got Don's geeky infatuation with the thing, and they understood how anybody who could keep Godzilla a secret and safe could probably be trustworthy, too.

Definitely more trustworthy that Bishop, anyway, whose men were becoming scarce on the sand. As the chaos began to fade, the hordes of agents began disappearing; it took a moment before the hatches hidden in the ground were apparent to the turtles, Nick, and Splinter.

"Looks like we've been sitting on some kind of military facility," Nick remarked. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Good old turtle luck strikes again," Raph grumbled.

"Where Bishop is, rarely do things make sense until it is too late," Splinter put in.

"Yeah! Like, who called the time-out?" Mikey asked.

"Who else?" Leonardo pointed with a katana. On the bow of the HEAT-Seeker, Bishop was apparently talking into his ever-present cell phone. He snapped the phone closed just as the last few agents disappeared from the sands. A moment later, the whole sandbar began to shake.

"Hang on, doc!" Raph called. Nick looked down to see the ground beneath him sliding away, but before he could even think about falling, a green arm was around his waist and he was flying through the air as a passenger on a pretty wild leap. Raphael set Nick down gently, brushing off any thanks as he turned back to the situation at hand. A platform was rising out of the sand, and on it were several barrels marked with the sorts of warnings the turtles had learned meant these were things better handled by Donatello.

As if the sight reminded them, the turtles immediately sought their brother. With the uncanny knowledge they always seemed to have of each other, all three turned their eyes in the same direction at the same time. And three hearts practically stopped with what they saw. Raphael felt as though his chest would explode.

"Donnie! No!"

Donatello's back was to them, but they could see from the set of his shoulders and the way his head was down that he was defeated – not physically in battle, perhaps, but defeated nonetheless. Something large had appeared behind the HEAT-Seeker from their position, and it took a moment for them to recognize it as a military submarine. Several agents were getting on board, and they seemed to be taking Don with them.

"Come on!" Leonardo roared, charging forward, fear biting at him inside.

Bishop looked down at the three turtles, one rat, and one scientist who were barreling in his direction and smiled again. So predictable.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you all," he called, waving a little. Whirling dramatically, he set a hand on Donatello's shell and gave the turtle a shove into the sub a step ahead of him. A heartbeat later, the door slammed shut, and the sub began to move away.

"Oh no you don't!" Mikey shouted, putting on a burst of speed. With a few bounds he crossed the last of the sand and vaulted up to the deck of the Seeker. He was about to launch himself onto the retreating sub, but a hand grabbed his arm. The youngest turtle nearly punched out the redhead who had stopped him, but his ninja reflexes caught him in time.

"You can't!"

"What do you mean, we can't?" Leo demanded, arriving just behind Michelangelo. Raphael appeared next along with Master Splinter. The mutant family had forgotten Nick in their panic, who was left to run the distance and climb aboard the HEAT-Seeker the non-ninja way.

"He…they made a deal." Elsie met their eyes, even as her cheeks flamed. She felt ashamed for being at all party to what she had witnessed, to a deal that might result in things she didn't even want to consider for her friend. "Bishop agreed to help us with Godzilla, even let all of us go, if Donnie went with him. Don said…he said it's what he had to do. He gave his word of honor that you wouldn't interfere."

The sub began to sink beneath the waves, picking up speed.

"I'm sorry," Elsie said, handing the bo to Raphael, who took it and gripped it like a lifeline. "He didn't think he had a choice. He said he had to protect us all, and he couldn't do it any other way."

"Argh! I don't believe it!" Raphael slammed his fist into the nearest object, which was the wall of the pilot house. "We can't let Donnie be taken by that rotten…"

"Stop it, Raph," and the naked fury in Leonardo's voice sent chills down everyone's spines. "If Don gave his word, we have to abide by that. For now. Tell us everything, Dr Chapman, including how to help Godzilla, if that's what's going on. But when we're done here," and his eyes narrowed, "we're going after Don. And word or no word, we're getting him back."


	11. Coping Mechanisms

I have to confess, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I like-y the angst!

Still don't own the TMNT or GTS and its crew. Sorry guys.

Enjoy!

* * *

Nick studied the barrels before him. The sandbar was again deserted, and looking by and large like any other sandbar in the ocean, but the scientist couldn't forget that feet below was a base of some kind, a military installation crawling with agents whom, he felt quite harshly, apparently had no moral compass. They'd set the barrels on the sand and disappeared, not one showing any remorse, any feelings at all. They just delivered the goods. They didn't care about Nick or Godzilla or...

"It feels like blood money to you, doesn't it?"

Nick turned to see Leonardo standing near. His gaze went back to the chemicals, then to where Godzilla was lying on the sand. The tiny dose of antidote had not reversed what had been done, but it seemed to have helped calm him. Well, that and the dozen tranquilizers Bishop's men had pumped into him just before the fight ended.

"Yeah," he replied heavily. "It's exactly what we need. It might have taken days for us to get our hands on this much. These aren't compounds you can get at the corner store, even in New York. But…"

"I know," Leo moved to stand beside him. "I bet it's hard to be glad you've got them when you know what they cost." The turtle said the words sympathetically, but he certainly didn't share in the sentiment the same way. He wasn't glad for having the cure, even knowing that it would save the giant mutant sleeping nearby. He was a lot more concerned about another mutant, one much dearer to him.

"Godzilla's important," Nick felt his throat tighten at a hundred unspoken possibilities. "In more ways than one, I'm not sure how we'd manage without him." He looked sharply to the turtle to see if the hidden meaning behind his words had been recognized, but Leo's expression didn't change. "And if you'd asked me to trade myself for this, I probably would have. But I would never have let Don give himself up like that if I'd known. It wasn't his fight."

"Donnie has very odd ideas about what his fights are," the eldest turtle sighed. "He's always been that way. Actually, knowing him, I'd guess Don figured that the problem with Bishop was his fight, not yours, and blamed himself for putting you in the middle of it. He thinks that he has an obligation to protect everybody, not just us. Me, I worry a lot more about our family than I do about the world at large, though I'll do my part to look after the city and all. But I'm not interested in being a hero, not the way Mikey is. And I don't have to mete out justice with every breath the way Raph does. Don isn't like them, either. He wouldn't fight if he didn't have to. But he'd step in front of a train for anybody, any time."

"I noticed." Nick recounted for the turtle how Donatello had saved Mendel from Godzilla's rage only a few hours prior. When he mentioned the chemical in the water, and how shaken Don had looked when he'd asked to be tested, the narrowing of Leonardo's eyes was downright frightening. Nick decided he was really sure he didn't want to be on this ninja's bad side.

"Don," Leo breathed when the doctor finished, as though admonishing the absent turtle. "Sometimes you're as bad as Raph." Something was twisting in Leonardo's face, and it made Nick suddenly rush to fill in the quiet that had settled.

"I didn't really thank him for it. I didn't thank him for helping me, either. What he did, and I still don't know exactly what it was, it's the reason we can help Godzilla at all. He gave us the cure, he helped me deal with the big guy, and I didn't even get the chance to say anything, and now it's too late to…"

"You will." The turtle cut off Nick's ramble and his eyes, and that focused, angry, eerie glint was back times ten. "We're not going to leave him with Bishop, no matter what. And if Bishop hurts him, he'll be sorry. I'll make him sorry he ever took Donnie away."

Fury built inside, and for a moment the turtle had the urge to strike, to hurt something, anything. The image of Don's face filled him, and Leo alternately wanted nothing more than to see him safe and to exact painful and lasting revenge for this situation, for whatever danger his brother now faced. But before his anger built, he breathed out slowly, remembering his training. He would not be able to protect his family if he could not master himself. Then Leonardo returned to himself and he looked at Nick with less venom.

"Doctor, please, take this stuff and use it. The sooner Godzilla's cured, the sooner we can move. Bishop said he wouldn't bother us, but I don't like being here anyway."

Leo's legendary self-control kept him cool and calm when he spoke, but his mind was still racing, though more productively. Bishop had traded the cure for Godzilla for Donatello, but he had also, according to Nick, been the deliberate and intentional cause of Godzilla's mutation. That told the ninja that this whole scenario had been some kind of trap. But to what end? If Godzilla had been the bait, was Don the intended victim, or was the turtle's capture an accidental victory? Either way, there were secrets and plans all around them, and the sooner they could leave and begin to search for Donatello, the sooner they could unravel them.

"Leo," Nick broke the turtle out of his thoughts, "thank you. Thanks for everything."

"I haven't done anything yet. But I will. And then you can thank Donnie."

-==OOO==-

"Shell!"

Raphael's fist thudded into the metal storage crate hard enough that, had the crate been alive, its bones would have shattered. Glaring at it as though it were the cause of his every raging impulse, he struck again and again, sometimes mixing kicks in with the punches. When a knuckle split and blood appeared on the next strike, he only swung harder. Fury blinded him, there was only the next blow, the next exhale of breath and strength. His mind quieted, leaving only the violence.

When sweat rolled down his plastron and his fists were bloody smears, the red-banded turtle finally stopped. He stood, nearly shaking, staring at the dents and droplets that were evidence of his anger. The feelings and thoughts he had blocked out rushed back, and in one baleful move he drew a sai and threw it as hard as he could into the very center of the ruined mess that had been his substitute punching bag.

"You are lucky we do not require that crate," came a voice from across the room. Raph wheeled, instinctively falling into a fighting posture. Monique moved towards him, and though his stance softened minutely, his face hardened.

"You got a problem?"

"Evidence suggests I am not the one with the, as you say, problem," she replied, not even nodding at the wrecked crate.

"Get lost. I ain't lookin' for company," the turtle growled.

"Your brother warned me to leave you alone," Monique replied easily, "but it is not in my nature to take orders from one who is not my superior."

"Yeah, I bet," and Raph allowed himself to smirk very slightly.

"For what it is worth," the Frenchwoman said, shifting the conversation bluntly back to her purpose, "I am sorry I did not better protect my people and Donatello upon the arrival of Bishop."

"Don't be," the turtle cut her off before she could say more. "First of all, it ain't your job to protect us – we're supposed to protect each other. Second of all, Donnie ain't a lightweight. He can fight as good as any of us, shell, better than us when he has a chance to plan. This wasn't your fault. This was Bishop doing what he does best – messing with my family."

Monique watched the angriest turtle as he spoke. In spite of her cool and stand-offish nature, she was a keen study of emotion, and she read between the lines far better than most people expected. She could almost see him tearing at himself inside, lashing himself with anger and blame as much as he had the metal crate, though he spoke not a word of it aloud. She realized he would never admit his own weakness to her, but he felt all too deeply this perceived failure. The fury she saw in him was familiar – even without being prone to it, Monique could be roused to similar sentiments, especially when those she claimed as her own were threatened. Though nothing showed outwardly, her will turned to steel, as did her resolve.

"Donatello proved himself to be worthy of the friendship the others offered him," she said. "He acted bravely when Dr Craven was in danger, and he risked himself to save them all when placed in an impossible situation. His honor will not be in vain. If I can assist you in retrieving him and seeking retribution, I will."

Raphael shrugged at her. He had no way of knowing how much she was saying, how hard-won that trust and respect had been, how rare it was for Monique to accept someone new into her circle. And frankly, he didn't care. Sure, the idea was nice, and having help to spring Donnie would be good, but none of it made up for what his brother might be experiencing right that minute.

None of it made up for the fact that he hadn't even known when Don made the deal to surrender himself for them all, hadn't been there to stop him, save him, or at least promise him that they'd come for him.

None of it made up for having to consider that they might not get to him in time.

-==OOO==-

"I don't know! Just mix it up yourself!"

Mendel felt his eyes get wide with surprise as Elsie stalked out of the lab in a huff, her sudden outburst at his, in his opinion, relatively harmless query. Where had that explosion come from?

"Way to strike out with the ladies," Randy commented from where he sat on a counter. "You should be world champ of the Foot-in-Mouth 500."

"Dude, she's like Raph, only she uses more words," Michelangelo said. Since his whole family had scattered in the quiet aftermath of the fight, the orange-clad turtle had simply followed Randy, who had wanted to release some of his own tension via his favorite exercise: heckling Dr Craven.

"Yeah, Elsie's all right, but when she gets mad, you're better off being on the G-man's hit list than hers." Randy smiled hopefully at the turtle, trying to raise his spirits. When the sub carrying Donatello and Bishop away had vanished, the three remaining turtles had seemed to deflate, as if their shells, or their guilt, had become too heavy for them. Raphael had stormed off, and Leonardo had vanished, but this turtle, so it seemed, had been left directionless.

"If you two don't have anything better to do, could you go…be yourselves elsewhere?" Craven asked out of nowhere as he turned back to the bench. "Unless you want a giant mutant to eat us for lunch, I need to take care of this." His voice was testier than usual.

"Is…there anything we can do to help?" Mikey asked suddenly. Both men turned to look at him and he shrugged. "It was what Don was working on, right? And he…well, it seems like he really wanted Godzilla cured from what you guys have told me. So the least I can do is help, right?"

"You're tight with Donnie, aren't you?" Randy asked gently.

"Yeah," and the heaviness in the turtle's voice almost hurt to hear. "He's smart, he looks out for me, and he even sticks up for me when I'm being dumb. Sometimes. Well, more than Raph does. He watches movies with me, and he fixes my game systems when I…when something happens to them. He's calmer than Raph, and he asks the questions Leo needs him to ask and he always needs somebody to make him laugh, especially when he's working too hard. He's my older brother. You know?"

"Not really," Mendel replied without looking up. "I'm an only child."

"Yeah, child is right," Randy retorted. Then, he winked at the turtle conspiratorially. "You definitely don't remind me at all of somebody who gets grumpy when working too hard. You know, that whole 'all work and no play makes Mendel an annoying boy' thing."

Michelangelo looked between them and smiled.

"Yeah, something like that. So is there anything we can do to help?" he asked again, a little more cheerfully. He missed his brother – he'd absolutely hated losing Donnie to the outbreak virus and he hated this a thousand times more. He was too old to cry, and a ninja besides, but sometimes, like when his best friend and older brother and protector and video-game partner was a monster, or even worse, was in the hands of a monster, he sure felt like it. But here was somebody who reminded him of Don, maybe an extra-cranky and not-as-cool Don, and somebody who was like himself, though not quite as cool as himself, either. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, but it did help.

"If you insist," Mendel sighed dramatically. However, he didn't turn around, and he was glad neither of the goof-offs across the room could see his face.

For all the teasing he got from Randy, and occasionally everyone else, Mendel did know what the HEAT group had become, he did recognize that they were more than teammates or colleagues – they were friends. Maybe even family. And Donatello had given himself up to save them. For as long as he lived, Dr Craven wasn't sure he'd ever see something as brave as that. What the turtle had said, that he was sure he would be dissected, had chilled the roboticist to his core. And yet he walked out without hesitation, accepting the fate as a trade for something else, something important enough that he would die for it. If Mendel couldn't have stopped Donatello, if he couldn't have saved him, at least he could try to comfort the family left behind.

"What do you need?" Randy asked, genuinely interested.

"Neither of you is much good with this part," he indicated the lab, "but Randy, get on the laptop and fire up the program Don wrote earlier. I think I can go faster if I have his notes there."

"What about me?"

Mendel regarded the youngest turtle, seeing so much expressed in his eyes. He remembered how Donatello had lamented at his brothers' lack of technical or scientific expertise, but he also remembered what virtues had been described instead.

"If you're up for dealing with the galley, I could really use something to eat," he admitted, smiling as the turtle's face split into a grin.

"One order of Mikey's Famous Scientist's Snack coming right up!" he announced before practically sprinting out the door. Craven turned back to his table, feeling a little better himself.

"Hey doc?"

"Yes?" Dr Craven sighed, waiting for whatever new barb Randy had prepared for him.

"That was cool." Randy didn't look up, but he was smiling and his voice was sincere.

"Thanks."

-==OOO==-

"Are you all right?"

Elsie turned from her view of the ocean to the gentle voice that had spoken beside her and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It took a breath before she could convince herself that the giant rat next to her was not something to flee. She just didn't like rats. However, this one was somewhat different from the type that invaded the docks and streets, and once, her kitchen. Still, their introduction had not gone precisely as smoothly as they would have liked.

_She had just handed the bo to Raphael and had actually taken a step back from Leonardo's fury when she bumped into someone. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with a giant rat. Well, maybe more like sternum to face, given the height differential. Later, she would feel bad, but in the moment, letting out a shriek and jumping halfway across the deck so she was behind everybody else had seemed a perfectly reasonable course of action._

"_My son," Master Splinter's voice startled the HEAT team as he emerged from behind her. The heaviness in it was lost in the general reaction of the humans to the figure standing there._

"_Whoa! Who is this?" Craven's eyes went wide, and he pulled out a tissue to hold to his nose. He also considered fainting, but he'd seen too many strange things in his time with HEAT to really follow through on it. Besides, he'd be the butt of Randy's jokes for a month._

"_This is our sensei," Leonardo made the introduction without turning around. _

"_Forgive our intrusion and rudeness. Our concern for Donatello has overridden our better manners." He bowed. "I am Hamato Splinter. I believe you already know my sons."_

"_You're…a rat?" Randy asked. He didn't react with Elsie's fear or Mendel's discomfort, but he was certainly confused._

"_Ain't you a genius?" Raph snarled._

"_Raphael!" and the turtle's shoulders fell at the snap in his sensei's voice. "This anger will not help Donatello. And neither will yours, Leonardo."_

"_Yes, father," the blue-banded turtle replied automatically, letting a long breath out as he sheathed his katana._

"_Wait, he's your father? How does that even work?" Mendel found his voice again._

"_It's a really long story," Michelangelo put in._

"_Which I totally want to hear!" the return of cheerfulness in Randy's voice seemed strangely out of place._

"_Later, Randy," Nick's order cut across the ship. "For now, somebody flag down Monique. We need to talk."_

"Dr Chapman?" Splinter asked again politely.

"Yeah, sure. I just needed some air," Elsie replied. But there was a hitch in her voice, a waver in the calm she was trying to portray. She peeked at the mutant out of the corner of her eye – his intent, focused expression told her she wasn't fooling him one bit.

"If there is some assistance I can render," he said, "it is the least I can do."

"No, I don't think so. Unless you're a better scientist than me."

"I am not. Unfortunately, we have all depended upon Donatello for such wisdom," and the father in him emerged. Elsie could see it happen. As Splinter looked out across the water, he suddenly seemed frail, small, withered. Not in body, but in soul.

"It's my fault, you know," she said in a guilty rush. "I should have stopped him. I should have done something."

"From what we have been told, Bishop left you very few options. I am not upset with you, Dr Chapman. But I am very worried about my son."

"I don't know if I can understand, but I…can relate." When Splinter cocked his head a bit to one side, looking at her, she sighed. "Let's just say I know what it feels like to watch somebody you really care about be taken away, and no matter what you do, you feel helpless to get them back." Her words started spilling out before she even really knew what she was saying. "And when you get them back, they're not the same. You walk on eggshells, 'cause you're not sure if you make a wrong move it'll make everything worse. You can't really understand what happened to them, but it happened and you can't go back to before, either. And then you try to help, and you do help, but there's a part of their mind you can't ever reach. Something shut off forever, because it's different than it was, and you just hold on for the ride."

Elsie stopped herself, not quite blushing. She hadn't meant to say all that. Her eyes made their way to Godzilla, lounging asleep on the sand, more in the water than out of it, and the man who was rolling a barrel towards the HEAT-Seeker. Being bonded to Godzilla, being connected to him in a way she couldn't even imagine, it had changed Nick forever. Before everything, she had wondered if there was a place in his life for her that didn't involve mutants – now, even if she had a place, it would never be mutant-free. And she could live with that, but she still didn't know if he could.

"Yes, I know this feeling." The rat turned to her, and after a moment, placed a hand on her arm. Elsie expected to shudder, but his palm was soft, and there was a serenity and warmth in the contact, as though someone had turned up the sun. She was surprised to find tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I don't know Donnie well," she said, trying to get back to the point of the conversation, "but I still feel like it's my fault that he's gone. I mean, in trouble." She bit her lip. Way to remind him that his son might already be dead.

"I know. But, as with your own situation, this happened beyond anyone's control. The man responsible is to blame, not you. And as soon as it can be done, we will seek him out and retrieve Donatello. I will not lose one of my sons," and strength, the kind of solid power that Elsie usually associated with gravity, crept smoothly into his voice. She saw none of the rage in him that Raphael obviously carried, none of the coldness of Leonardo; he was a father, and a warrior, and it showed.

"I just hate that there isn't more I can do," she admitted.

"Not all are meant for every path," Splinter replied. "My family are ninja, and we have our own ways. You are not, but that does not mean there is not something you can do. You have to find your strength within, and set that against this problem."

"Don told me that, too," Elsie said softly.

"Then my son believed that your strength was of value. As do I." The father of the turtles released her arm and, as easily as breathing, leapt to the roof of the pilot house, smiling very slightly at her expression. "It is my time to use a strength of my own to help my son. I ask you to do the same." He settled into lotus position and closed his eyes.

Elsie felt her heart thump once loudly, then suddenly settle, and inspiration began to blossom in her mind. She nodded at Splinter with renewed confidence, somehow certain he could see her even without looking.

"I will." Then she moved briskly to the side Nick was on. She managed not to get in the way of Leonardo, who was easily helping to load the barrels onto the Seeker. "Hey, Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"I've got an idea."

-==OOO==-

"By the way, your hospitality stinks," Donatello grimaced.

"I assure you, this is absolutely necessary," Bishop replied easily. He smiled with great satisfaction as he packed away the blood sample beside his already-acquired skin and shell samples in a small, sealed container. "This is a far simpler procedure when you are a willing participant."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it willing," the turtle retorted, but there was no fire in his words. Don swallowed another lump of fear, but he was still managing to keep to his promise. At least he wasn't tied to a table this time – he'd given his word of honor, and since Bishop believed him, he'd permitted the turtle a certain amount of leverage. A few hidden cameras on the disguised base had been proof enough that the ransom was paid, so Donatello was playing the agent's game. For now.

"Indeed. And that is why we must resort to this," Bishop said without even turning around. On cue, what seemed like a whole squad jumped on Donatello, wrenching him out of the chair and dragging him forward. Instinctively, the turtle fought back, but he swiftly remembered the promise he'd given and stopped struggling with a sigh. The government agents hauled him up some stairs and then shoved him forward unexpectedly. Don landed easily, but not before they had sealed the hatch over his head. He was in one of Bishop's holding containers, like a sample in a test tube. Exactly like that, in fact.

"I can't thank you enough for your help, Donatello," Bishop said, that disturbing sincerity dripping from his voice now. "Thanks to your work, the samples I was able to acquire of Godzilla's blood are now much easier to integrate with human DNA, and therefore I am one step closer to my ultimate goal of an army that can defend this planet against whatever threats may arise."

"You infected Godzilla just so you could get me to give him my blood?"

"More precisely, so that you could create a cure for his blood from your own, giving me a perfect blueprint from which I could recreate a blended version of his mutation and yours. It was either that or arrange for him to eat you, but then I would be without recourse if I ever needed your blood again. You're more unique than any other mutation on earth, Donatello. You alone possess an antibody that attacks certain mutant cells but not others, the mutation in your body is stable, and you do not pose a significant risk to me for physical danger. You are a perfect specimen for my purposes."

"Really? Then how about you let me out of here and we'll see how much physical danger I can manage?" the turtle threatened, pounding a fist on the smooth wall of his container while his pride burned.

"You'll be far better preserved in there," Bishop turned back to his computer. "But since I can't have you causing any trouble to me or to yourself…"

A sudden cold rush thundered against his feet, and Donatello looked down to see a weirdly-blue fluid entering the chamber at an alarming pace. It was frigid, and his cold-blooded body felt immediately chilled. Before he could even think about shivering, it was more than knee-deep. A mask dropped down from above.

"I would recommend you use that," came Bishop's careless voice. "You'll be of use to me dead or alive, so I suppose the choice is yours, Donatello. But I find that creatures generally prefer not to drown in their test tubes. Besides, it would be such a shame to lose the power of your mind."

Donatello scowled. On the one hand, of course he didn't want to die. But on the other, he wanted to resist Bishop with all his strength, and he had no desire to be a lab rat forever. He didn't want to be used against his will. However, the reasonable part of his mind argued, Bishop would still have his body even if the soul had fled, and could use that unhindered. As the freezing water sloshed to nearly the middle of his plastron, another thought crossed his mind.

"My family wouldn't want me to die." In spite of the cold, Donatello felt warmed. He was not, no matter what Bishop said, alone. His brothers would find him eventually. His father would never give up searching and fighting to retrieve him. His friends would help if they could. He knew, more certainly than he knew his own name, that Leo and Mikey and Raph would tear the earth to pieces to find him, would walk though fire to get him back. They would come for him. He needed to be alive for them when they did.

He couldn't keep the shaking out of his arm as he reached up to pull down the mask. It reminded him of the breathers he had built for their various treks under water, but with a sinister look to it that his own creations never included. As he drew it near to his beak, he could smell something pungent, a gas probably meant to knock him out, already pouring from it. What a choice – death or absolute helplessness. But resolutely, Donatello pulled the straps firmly around his head, creating a good seal to keep the water out. Already it was lapping at his chin.

"A wise choice," Bishop commented. "Sleep well, Donatello."

The turtle felt like there were ice crystals in his tear-ducts from the cold as he was completely submerged. The gas coming through the mask was noxious, yet with a hint of something sickly-sweet underneath. He bobbed a little while, his temperature falling uncomfortably, and his body was feeling more sluggish. Then the cold began to seep away, and a heaviness settled over his mind. Donatello allowed himself to fall with it, dropping into a forced meditation rather than sleep for as long as he could hold out against the drugs he had no choice but to inhale.

"Father," he said to the abyss that was calling him, "I don't know how long I can last. I don't know what Bishop will do to me. But I'm alive. I know you'll come for me. Tell Leo not to give up. I'm…"

And darkness invaded him.


	12. Phase Two

Ah, the plot thickens! We're not quite to clam-chowder thick yet, but we'll get there, I promise!

Still don't own the rights to 'em – just borrowing them for a bit of fun!

Enjoy!

* * *

"I wish you would reconsider," Nick said, feeling just a little desperation sneak into his tone. Leonardo looked back at him calmly.

"Thanks, but we can't wait anymore. You have the compounds you needed from Bishop, so Don's word of honor is satisfied. We've got the helicopter, and we're no help to you with curing Godzilla. We need to get Don back from Bishop. Now." The steel in Leo's eyes was sharper than his swords.

"But how will you find him?" Randy asked.

"We will find him," Splinter replied. "We must."

"But we have an idea. We've successfully tracked Godzilla before with something Mendel made. At least let us try configuring it to see if it can pick him up," Elsie argued.

"Godzilla's your priority right now," Raph argued, "and Donnie's ours. We can't wait for you this time. If you get that gizmo up and working, let us know. But until then, we're outta here."

"But…" Nick wasn't sure what more he could say.

The three turtles exchanged glances. They felt a little guilty about leaving HEAT on an island that was a front for Bishop's governmental goons, but after what Master Splinter had told them, there was no option. Their master had tried to reach Donatello's mind from meditation, only to encounter a shock of fear, and desperate pride, before the presence vanished. Splinter fiercely believed that his son was still alive, that he'd have felt the death clearly, but obviously something else, something strong enough to bury even Donatello's astral consciousness, had happened. And so their father had ordered an attack; his sons were well-ready to take the offensive.

"Let them go," Monique cut through the quiet. "I believe they are correct. They must extract Donatello before it is too late. We should not attempt to prevent them." Leonardo met her gaze and bowed very slightly in gratitude.

"We've got Don's Shell Cell," he gestured to where he had it stowed in his belt, "so call if you have anything that can help us. And try to get out of here as fast as you can. If you need us to come back after we've found Donnie, we will. But try to get going soon."

"No kidding," Dr Craven nodded. "We're pretty close to having enough of the antidote ready, so we shouldn't be too far behind you. And if there's something we can do to help, something not so much fighting, but more science, let us know."

Master Splinter stepped forward and his sons moved back, vanishing into the helicopter at an unspoken command. While they readied it for flight, the ninja master bowed to the five humans.

"I wish you well in your attempt to cure Godzilla," he said, "and I thank you for your willingness to protect and befriend my sons, especially Donatello. Without him, my family is somewhat at a loss, but if we have need of you, we will call. I apologize for our haste, but I believe you understand our urgency."

"Yeah, we do." Nick sighed. "I'm sorry we got him into this mess."

"I choose to believe our meeting was inevitable, even if the circumstances are not ideal at this time. When we have defeated Bishop and rescued Donatello, we will speak some more."

And with an odd and surprising grace, the mutant rat seemed to disappear from his position – he moved so quickly even Monique's eyes didn't follow. From the open door of the helicopter, Splinter raised one hand in salute, then vanished inward as the chopper gained altitude. Michelangelo waved wildly from a window, grinning.

"All right," Nick turned to his team. "Let's take care of Godzilla and get out of here. I have a feeling they're going to need our help, and soon."

-==OOO==-

Agent John Bishop calmly walked around the table, studying the prone form before him. He permitted himself a smile, though he relaxed not an inch in the presence of the mutant as much from wariness as habit. It had taken far more potent drugs than he'd expected to fully force Donatello into a state of deep unconsciousness. He needed the turtle's brain to be working at the barest minimum, enough to keep him breathing and no more; it was surprising how much resistance his brain had given, showing continued levels of activity even after twice the normal human dosage for medically inducing a coma. But finally the brain scans were showing only the most basic functions, everything else dormant.

"Given your significant intelligence, I'm sure you'd appreciate what I am about to attempt. Well, perhaps 'appreciate' is the wrong word. But intellectually, I am certain you would see the merit in my work."

Bishop regarded the absolutely still turtle with interest, and an odd sort of respect. The accidental creation of the outbreak virus had had more than one unintended benefit, not least of which was the sheer amount of data he now possessed on the mutant turtles, and Donatello in particular. Scans taken after the cure had been administered had showed him that, among other things, this turtle was more than a rival for Baxter Stockman's brilliance. Actually, Bishop was somewhat astounded at the possibilities presented by the sheer brainpower evident in Donatello. But much of that innate intelligence was not quite yet fully developed, as the turtle remained still a juvenile in many ways.

"Not that you would ever serve me as Stockman has, even if you were no more than a few organs in a jar," he told the turtle. "I'll give you this much – you freaks are consistent about your honor."

But besides knowing how smart Donatello was, he also had an intimate knowledge of the turtle's physiology, mutation, and basic anatomy. He expected he knew Donatello better than even his so-called father did, at least biologically. And from that knowledge came great power. For what he had told the turtle was true – of all the mutants the world offered, Donatello was by far the best candidate for his research. No other mutant was so easily controlled due to sheer size and lack of nuclear side-effects than the turtles, but only this one also possessed such advanced and malleable DNA.

"You profess to desire to protect this world, and while I seriously doubt that, you will be given the chance, my friend," Bishop commented, stopping at the table and lifting a very delicate, and very sharp, scalpel. "You're going to save me months of work, and your assistance will render my probability of success more than 60% greater."

At the push of a button, hydraulic arms abruptly hoisted up and flipped over the limp body so that Donatello was face-down on the table. Bishop flicked on a bright light and settled it over the back of the turtle's head, neatly slicing through the bandana as he broke the skin. Purple tails fluttered as they fell away, their edges red with blood; Bishop wondered if anyone could appreciate the symbolism, the imagery of his act as he, with one gesture, violated the two things Donatello held most dear – his mind, and his clan.

"And all I need from you is your brain."

-==OOO==-

"How is he?"

Nick turned at the voice and waved Monique to join him. The French agent stepped beside him, seemingly unaware that they were within yards of Godzilla's head. She appraised the enormous creature coolly, then looked to the scientist for the answer to her question.

"It looks like the compound is working. His symptoms are starting to subside, and it's calmer somehow," he said, gesturing to his forehead. "Elsie and Mendel really did it this time."

"Actually, a lot of the real work was Don's," Elsie corrected, joining them. Mendel and Randy were on her heels. "It was more than just his blood that gave us the cure. It was his brain that pieced together what to do with it."

"We so owe him big time, jefe," Randy said, and there was clear guilt in his voice.

"Yeah." Mendel wiped a handkerchief across his forehead and squinted in the sun. "So, any chance we can get off this island-secret-base-thing any time soon?"

"As soon as Godzilla wakes up," Nick replied, turning back to his charge. "I don't like the idea of leaving him here with those government people everywhere."

"Agreed," and Monique's voice was sharp. "But once he is able to defend himself, we must return to the city."

"You really want to go find Donnie, don't you, French fry?" Elsie asked, eyebrow quirked.

"He is an ally. That is sufficient reason to assist."

"Oh, come on! Admit it! You like that green geek as much as we do," Randy laughed.

"Don's not a geek," Mendel protested.

"No, you're the geek," Randy countered.

"Guys, knock it off. Anyway, Monique's right. We do need to help the turtles find Don if we can. Not just because we owe him, but because he'd do the same for us. And I think we need all the friends we can get right about now." Nick's face resolved into stronger lines as his voice switched to the tone he used when he was in command. "Elsie, you said you might be able to modify the tracker Craven developed for Godzilla to track Don? How long will that take?"

"Not long, since we already have enough genetic material from Don to use as a base," she answered.

"The real problem is that Donnie doesn't have a nuclear signature the way Godzilla does, so it won't pick him up at the same distance. If it works at all, we'll have to know approximately where to look before it can tell us exactly where to look," Mendel said, rubbing his nose.

"Something's better than nothing. Do it," Nick ordered. "Randy, is the HEAT-Seeker sea-worthy?"

"Yes, captain," the hacker saluted sharply. "It's rigged like a Christmas tree, but it should hold. Got a little help from the guys before they left."

"Good. Make sure she's ready to go as soon as Godzilla is. Monique? I was wondering if…"

"I have already called." She didn't mention Roache's name aloud, but Nick was on the same page with her. "If anything is known, I will have the data shortly."

"All right. Let's get to work, people." Nick moved to put a hand on Godzilla's snout while Elsie, Randy, and Mendel moved off to their tasks. Nick could hear the ringtone of Randy's phone as they retreated, but it didn't really touch his consciousness. All his effort was bent on Godzilla.

"Come on, big guy," he breathed. "The sooner you wake up, the sooner we can get out of here." Then, aware that Monique hadn't left, he turned back to her. "What is it?"

"You were right." The words were short, slightly bitter, but rounded with something approaching resignation, almost amusement. "The turtle has a heart."

"And so do you," Nick thought, but didn't say. Instead, he replied, "Glad you're on board, then. Randy's right, too, though. You really want to help him."

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked, gently enough that she wouldn't see it as a fight, but rather, a scientist's curiosity.

"Because he, like Godzilla, is unique. They are all unique. And unlike Godzilla, I do not believe he poses a threat. Instead, he may be the very best weapon of all to prevent harm from creatures like Godzilla. His family is honorable, his brothers are loyal, and his has proven himself to be altruistic. That is a rare combination, more rare than Godzilla. I can do no less than protect such a one."

Nick felt himself smiling and quickly averted his face to prevent her seeing his expression. Monique's own visage hadn't shifted much from its usual stoicism, except for a very slight challenge in the eyes for him to mock her. The words had been spoken from the heart, and Nick would rather brush Godzilla's teeth with his favorite shirt than embarrass her.

"And do not tell anyone what I have said." Now her voice was as cold as a frozen mountain lake. Nick grinned even wider.

"Not a word," he promised.

-==OOO==-

"So, what's the plan," Raphael asked, leaning over the copilot's chair and gripping its arms tensely. "How're we gonna find Donnie and spring him?"

"I…don't really know," Leo admitted tightly. "Bishop took him away in a sub. Assuming they're still on-board, they could be anywhere. And if they're not on the sub, Bishop's bases aren't exactly easy to find."

"This is the part we really need Don for," Michelangelo complained. "He could find that sub in like a minute!"

"Well, we don't have Don, so we're just going to have to figure it out for ourselves," the blue-clad turtle snapped. Then he sighed. "Sorry. I just…I really don't know how to find him this time."

"Perhaps," Splinter said from his seat somewhat behind the turtles, "this is precisely the sort of assistance we should ask Dr Tatopoulos for."

"Or, better yet, a crazy hacker!" Mikey cheered. He jumped to Leonardo's side and pulled Donatello's Shell Cell from his brother's belt. He quickly pulled up the contacts Don had entered and found Randy among the very short list. The call was easily accomplished, although Raph took the phone away from his younger brother eventually to clarify Michelangelo's ramblings to someone who didn't speak fluent turtle.

"Well, he's gonna see what he can find," Raphael closed the phone and handed it back to Leo. "Said it wouldn't even take that long."

"In the meantime, which direction should we be heading? Towards New York?" Even as he asked the question, Leonardo wasn't sure that home was the right answer. Bishop had operated out of New York for a while, but he would also be expecting a rescue attempt. It didn't make sense for the government agent to head right back to their stomping grounds. And yet he'd been local recently, so maybe he wasn't too far away after all.

"Well, if you had a sub, and you were an evil, creepy, twisted secret agent guy, where would you go?" Michelangelo asked.

"Someplace nobody could find me," Raph answered. "Someplace nobody could get to."

"Or nobody would think to," Leo added thoughtfully. "Bishop's not just hiding from us, but from everybody, even the rest of the government. Everything he does has to be secret. But he also needs room to work, room he can't get on a submarine."

"What are you thinkin', Leo?" Raphael asked sharply.

"Okay, let's assume he has to take Don off the sub, that he doesn't have a lab on-board," the eldest said slowly. "There was an outpost right under our noses on those islands and we didn't know about it. I don't think he would have circled back there – it would be too dangerous."

"But sneaky!" Michelangelo put in. "Hiding Don right under Godzilla is seriously crazy. And Bishop's crazy, but not that crazy."

"Agreed," Splinter put in. "He would not remain once his position was compromised. It is not in his nature to hold that which is lost."

"Right. But he does need resources. He has to be on the grid someplace." Leonardo narrowed his eyes. "You know, it would be a lot easier to make a base out of something that was already there instead of making one from scratch."

"Reduce, reuse, recycle," Mikey recited automatically. Then he stopped. "No, wait, that's it! It's perfect!"

"What's it?" Leo asked.

"The underwater base that crazy Garbageman had. The one Don and I found when we were testing out the Shell Sub. I mean, we did a number on it, but it's still there. And nobody knows about it, but it's already rigged for everything, like electricity and stuff. If Bishop found it when they were cleaning all that alien tech out of the river, he might think we don't know about it."

"I hate to say it," Raph sighed, "but he's got a point. Maybe sometimes you can use your brain after all."

"It's still a gamble, though," Leo pointed out. "We'll lose a lot of time if we're going in the wrong direction, time we don't have to lose."

"My son, in this I feel we must trust our instincts," Splinter put a hand on Leo's shoulder. "Until we hear from Mr Hernandez as to whether his pursuits have been fruitful, we can only act based on what we know. Michelangelo's theory is sound. And there is a certain arrogance in Bishop that lends credibility as well. It would be illogical for him to return to New York unless he were so convinced of his own superiority. If Bishop believes he is unassailable, he might well make his place just below our eyes."

"All right. We head towards New York. And here's hoping we're right!"

-==OOO==-

Donatello was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming.

He sure hoped he was dreaming, anyway.

It was a room very like one he had seen in one of Bishop's previous labs. High ceilings, dank smell, and rows and rows of liquid-filled containers stretched into shadows beyond, each lit from below by an eerie blue light. The turtle moved slowly between the racks of giant test-tubes, his footsteps oddly loud in the pervasive silence. The space was cold and he could feel his own movements a little sluggish from the chill. But there was no sense at all of danger, no feeling that he needed to escape or that Bishop was anywhere present in what was obviously his domain. He circled the perimeter twice, but didn't see much in the way of an exit. Perhaps there wasn't one.

"Definitely dreaming," he said aloud, his voice echoing awkwardly. "This only makes sense if it isn't real." Still, he was here, so he figured there was at least some point to indulging his subconscious.

Almost hesitantly, Don finally approached one of the clear containers. There was a form in it, and until this moment he hadn't wanted to look, but now there was an urgency in his mind, as if he were drawn in. The ninja laid his hand on the cold glass, suppressing a shiver at its chill. The shape within blurred, then suddenly became clear. He stepped back, a gasp escaping him.

It was Godzilla.

Sort of.

The giant mutant lizard was now shrunk; standing he would barely top Donatello himself. The lizard's limbs were out of proportion, too, the legs a little too short, the arms a bit too long, the head oddly small on a very thick neck. Don suppressed a shiver – it was very wrong, Godzilla like this. The grace and power of his real shape had been twisted into something still menacing, but awkward, almost clumsy. With sudden sympathy, the turtle leaned his forehead against the icy test-tube.

"Bishop," the turtle murmured aloud. "He's cloning Godzilla, like he tried to clone Master Splinter."

"You are not my parent."

Donatello almost fell backwards he was so surprised to hear a voice, clear as anything, in the stillness. Although "hear" might not have been the right word – the contact came in images, feelings, smells, even sensations that all added up to the statement. Godzilla's eyes were open, wrongly yellow and burning, and staring at him. The voice had sounded rough, alien, full of fire and passion, treacherous as the sea.

"Godzilla?" Donnie asked hesitantly, not quite sure how to reply in a language comprised of not-words.

"You are not Nick. But I know you." The Godzilla in the container did not move, but his eyes did not leave the turtle's face.

"You…you can talk? Well, I guess you're not talking exactly, but…"

"I know you," the usually much larger mutant interrupted. "Why are you here?"

"Um, I don't know," Donatello replied. "Why are you here?"

"Because I am here."

Don didn't have a good response to that, so he let it slide. "I was in your mind before and you didn't speak then."

"Yes. I was hurt, and I was angry. I could not hear Nick. Everything was wrong." With the words came a sense of loss in a vastness too violent and deep to be penetrated, as if a lifeline had snapped and there was nothing left to do but drown.

"But you're not hurt now?" Don asked.

"No."

"I don't suppose there's any chance you want to come find me and get me out of here," the ninja said, feeling even as he spoke that the request was too complicated for Godzilla. Certainly the giant mutant was pretty intelligent, but its cognitive processes were entirely different from his own kind of sentience – he could hardly expect Godzilla to understand at the same level.

"I am here," was the surprising reply.

Suddenly Donatello became aware that all the test-tubes, dozens or hundreds or thousands – he couldn't have said exactly – were filled with identical mini-Godzillas, all misshapen, and all awake. All looking at him. And a bizarre idea came to him.

"Bishop is cloning you. You remember me being in your mind, which the clones couldn't know, but you are also here with the clones. Does that mean that Bishop's clones are creating a shared intelligence, that you're becoming a hive mind? Is that even possible?"

The rows and rows of burning yellow eyes looked at him but did not respond. Don began to pace.

"He's making an army, the same way he did before, but he wants it to be like you, complete with all your abilities. He used my DNA to bridge the nuclear issues in blending your cells with whatever he's using as a base, but I'll bet he didn't consider your brain at all. Even if he knows you're smart, he'd have no way of knowing about your ability to forge a psychic link. But you're not like us, you're not really like me at all. Bishop has me to compare to you, but we're so fundamentally different, he'll never notice this. He's accidentally splitting your mind a thousand ways."

A feeling of something cold and hard knotted in his stomach as a new idea flashed across his mind.

"The clones must be in the very beginning stages of creation, since hopefully I haven't been under that long, which is why you can think so clearly – you're the only one aware enough and mature enough to think. And he'll probably keep the clones dormant in their test-tubes for a while, like all those guys in the lab when he grabbed Master Splinter. But when he wakes them up, if they're programmed in a certain way, does that mean you'll have to follow their programming?" He considered quickly the strength of Godzilla's mind against the imprinting Bishop could instill in a thousand versions of the same thoughts, and swallowed. The odds were not good.

"If Bishop's not careful, he's going to wind up with an army of half-turtle, half-Godzilla creatures that operate with a hive mind, one he might or might not be able to control. One you might or might not be able to control. I'm not actually sure which is worse, but we've got to do something about it before even one of them matures enough to wake."

Donatello paused, remembering that he was, well, if not dreaming, at least still unconscious. He sighed. "Not like there's a whole lot I can do about it at the moment, though."

Then, the scene around him began to dissolve rapidly, melting before his very eyes into swirls of darkness. Donatello felt himself dropping away, as if he were falling asleep from within the dream. He had no way of knowing if that meant he was waking up or being drugged even farther, but he knew he only had a few more seconds before he lost his hold on his mind and went wherever he was being drawn.

"Godzilla, can you talk to Nick?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell him something from me?"

"I will try."

"Okay." He thought quickly, knowing he had to give Godzilla a that was message short and easy enough to be relayed in images and feelings to such a different mind, but that would give his friend the knowledge he needed. "Tell Nick that your eggs are hatching."

"I do not have eggs."

"I know," and Donatello would have been frustrated if he had even a spare amount of effort left over after trying to keep the mental connection against whatever was pulling him away. "Tell Nick your eggs are hatching. Just tell him, please Godzilla."

There was a crack in Don's mind, and everything winked out.

He wondered if he was dead.


	13. Hidden Loyalty

Sorry for the hiatus – sales meeting ate my hours and days. Also, with my band recording our first album, I have a lot less weekend time than usual. But the story is basically done now, so I just need a few minutes to post it at a time, I think. I could probably put up the whole thing all at once, but where's the fun in that?

Don't own the TMNT or Godzilla or Fort Knox (which I don't think is trademarked but it would be neat if I owned it!). No monies for me.

Enjoy!

* * *

Randy Hernandez cracked his knuckles without his usual drama as he settled into his computer station. Hacking the government? Easy – he'd done it plenty of times before. Hacking into the navy? Even easier – their security was downright predictable. But hacking into a governmental entity that operated in total secrecy, with apparently ridiculous resources at their disposal and a way unhealthy attitude? Well, at least he enjoyed a challenge!

As Randy began his usual process of forcing open sites and firewalls that otherwise unbent themselves to nobody, he remembered the one thing Don had told him about not long after he'd started really hanging around the Staten Island headquarters.

"_Hey! Where'd that come from?" Randy had demanded, seeing his computer's background suddenly switch from a very cool shot of Godzilla in action to what could only be described as a picture of Donatello sitting triumphantly on top of his head. _

"_It was easy." Randy turned to see the turtle in question standing behind him, grinning. _

"_No, seriously, how'd you breech my security? I had everything set up…"_

"_Yeah, your network is kinda like Fort Knox on steroids," Don had said, "but even Fort Knox can be beat. You rely too much on stable defenses, not enough on offense."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Well, take me. I'm a ninja, and if I really, really wanted to, I could probably get into and out of any place, no matter how secure, without anybody seeing me as long as I didn't do anything to call their attention to me. Right?"_

"_Yeah, I guess. So…?"_

"_I hacked your system weeks ago, Randy. I just didn't do anything that would make your defenses act against me. Once I convinced your system I was just a part of the program, part of the scenery, they stopped paying attention to me. From there, I could move little stuff around, stuff not designed to trigger any response, until the whole thing was basically under my control."_

"_You convinced my network that you were part of its own programming? That is wicked cool!" Randy had cheered, genuinely impressed, even if it was his pride that had been wounded._

"_Yep. If you go into your system folders, you'll see where I left you an annotated description of everything I changed, of every hole I exploited. Might want to plug them up."_

"_Yeah, I'll do that. But," and Randy's eyes had narrowed suspiciously, "why'd you hack me to start with?"_

"'_Cause you were there," came the cheerful reply. "And because I thought you'd rather me hack you than anybody else out there. Between what you've already got and a few of my tweaks, you'll be basically impenetrable. And," Don had smirked knowingly, "with that data in hand, you'll be able to hack just about anybody you want. Except me, of course."_

Randy had taken it as a challenge, and while he hadn't yet successfully managed to penetrate Donatello's own system, he had learned a ton from the little breech. Stuff he now intended to put to good use.

"Bishop's group can't be better than Fort Knox," he said to himself, kicking off a few more processes eagerly. "And even if it is, it's totally not going to beat me! Consider this a little payback, courtesy of Don and Randy!"

Within the hour, he had the exact GPS coordinates the turtles needed to rescue their brother.

-==OOO==-

Nick looked at his watch in frustration. More than two hours had passed since Nick and Elsie had administered the full antidote to Godzilla, yet the giant mutant still slept. They'd run a few quick tests after an hour just to be sure everything was all right, and indeed, the G-cells in his system seemed to be returning to their usual functions, beating away what remained of the outbreak virus from Bishop. But, for such a quick healer, Godzilla seemed to be taking his time on this one.

"I sure don't want to wake you early," the scientist said aloud to his charge, "but if you don't come around soon, I might have to. We really shouldn't stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, just in case."

Nick resisted the urge to kick at the sand like an impatient kid. Instead, he sat down, his back against Godzilla's lower jaw, and crossed his arms. A steady, deep influx of air from giant-sized breathing kept him cool even in the shadeless sun, and there was something comforting about being in contact with Godzilla. As if he could will the lizard to be well through the force of his mind.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Nick. He reached out and laid a hand on the scales beside him, probing gently with his mind. But, as from the moment he'd come out of meditation with Donatello hours prior, there was almost no sense of the other presence within him. It should have been a relief – for how long had he wanted nothing but to separate his consciousness from Godzilla? Now, at last, he had what he'd wanted. But it wasn't a relief.

"There's no telling what will happen to our bond after this," he said, more to hear himself fill the silence than anything else. "Maybe the virus undid some of the chemical stuff that bound us in the first place. Or maybe this is just a momentary lull because of the drugs. Or maybe because of what Donatello and I did before, cutting you off. Or maybe because you threw me out of your mind when the virus got to you."

He considered the options. There was a definite chance that, if he did nothing, the bond that had plagued him might be, if not cut, at least permanently quieted. There was a chance he would no longer have to fight for every inch of control when Godzilla was angry. There was a chance he could regain his full independence, no longer symbiotic with a mutation taller than buildings.

But there was also a chance that, without that bond, something else might go wrong. How many times had he been rescued because of Godzilla's uncanny knowledge of his situation? How many times had he been able to stop Godzilla from accidental damage because he could communicate with him? How much had Godzilla learned and gained from exposure to his parent's mind? And what would be the psychological backlash if that exposure was cut? Even if it brought relief to Nick, he wasn't convinced the giant mutant would feel the same – in fact, he was relatively sure that Godzilla would react with anger and pain, as he did to any injury.

Which was a whole other potential problem. With Nick in his mind, he'd become even easier to calm, his rage easier to quell without unnecessary destruction. Godzilla had been mind-controlled a few different times, and always it ended in disaster when his will was restored and he reacted with understandable fury. Just as Nick had reacted to the bond poorly to start, he was sure Godzilla would react ten times more poorly were it to be severed now. He might even become wilder, more feral, more enraged, as any cornered or injured creature would. Nick sighed. The prospect of a Godzilla a little deranged from that loss outweighed everything he might want or think. There was just too great a possibility for things to go terribly wrong.

"Never thought I'd say this," he admitted ruefully, feeling a long-pained ache inside cry out, a gut instinct to reconsider, to ignore the possibilities and think only of his own struggles. But that pain was not greater than the needs of countless others, especially Godzilla's. "But I think we're better off the way we were. Everybody is a little safer with you in my head. So I guess I better do something about it now, before it's too late. Or before I rethink this too much."

Nick had a decisive streak, and once he determined to ensure that his bond with Godzilla was not lost, there wasn't much his inner self or anybody else could say to dissuade him. Settling himself a little more comfortably, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He had a fraction of the knowledge Donatello did regarding mediation, but he did know Godzilla, had lived as half of their shared consciousness for a long time now, so he didn't need a whole lot of guidance to seek the mutant.

"Godzilla," he breathed the name. "Godzilla, can you hear me?"

Worryingly, there was no immediate response. No tug to join in the other's mind, no sense of the vast strangeness that was Godzilla's own consciousness. So often, reaching out like this left Nick unable to completely distinguish his own self from Godzilla's, sure even that he was swimming in the ocean, not seated on a chair someplace else. But he might as well have been reaching for Major Hicks with his mind for all the response he got.

"Godzilla, it's me. You've got to answer me," he thought, directing his mind inward even farther. Remembering some of what Donatello had said to put him under before, he tried to replicate the process, but found himself stubbornly still within only himself, sitting on hot sand, leaning against a mutant so familiar and yet totally apart. A tiny part of Nick's heart started to panic. What if he couldn't get Godzilla back at all?

"No. I'll get him back. I've never let him down, and he's never failed to answer when I needed him before." Nick stood and faced Godzilla, setting himself so he was directly across from one giant, closed eye. "Hear that? You've never not come when I needed you. Come on, big guy. Come on. I need you to answer me."

And Nick suddenly knew exactly how much he would miss Godzilla. As much as he hated losing himself to the mutant when his human mind was awash in mutant thoughts, much more than that he cared about the giant who had imprinted on him at hatching. For all the trouble, the danger, the arguing with every governmental agency in the country, it wasn't just Godzilla who had imprinted that day. Nick was, as much as any human could be, his parent. And the scientist knew it. He didn't love Godzilla as a father did a son, didn't feel for him as he did for the members of HEAT.

But he did feel something fierce, loyal, protective. Yes, it was as alien as Godzilla's mind, but in that same strangeness, Nick loved Godzilla intensely. The feeling blazed – Nick was suddenly moved with an inner power he only associated with Godzilla's own force of emotions. Godzilla was his, his in a way that no one else would ever claim, and yes, all considerations of the human world aside, he loved him like nothing else.

"Parent."

Then Nick was falling into that lostness that came with Godzilla's mind, but he welcomed it, embraced it, even as his vision winked out and he was in a place as bizarre as his mental office surroundings had been mundane. But it was Godzilla, all right – no other force could be so uncontrolled and yet so gentle, so capable of oppressing him but respectfully offering space. Unlike what had happened in his own mind, Godzilla did not materialize before him; his reptilian identity was instead stamped over every inch of the space itself.

"Godzilla! I thought I lost you, big guy," Nick said, unable to keep the relief from his voice. There was no lying within the mind of his charge, not that he was terribly interested in lying to Godzilla anyway.

"I hurt." It rumbled around him like an earthquake, and Nick became aware of the sharpness of the injury to the lizard's side, as well as a general feeling of soreness throughout his body. But the statement was accompanied by a wash of relief, and the scientist understood that, while annoyed by his physical injuries, Godzilla was grateful that the more dangerous "hurt," the mind-eroding virus, was gone.

"I'll bet it hurts. Those drugs were pretty powerful. But it'll fade soon."

"I was lost. Could not find parent. You were gone." There was such a sense of sorrow in that statement, of an utter loneliness, that Nick felt a lump rise in his metaphysical throat. He pushed it aside, not out of embarrassment, but because Godzilla could feel what he felt clearly enough – he didn't need to elaborate right this minute. Still, to have been missed so keenly, it validated a lot of what he felt and could never explain, even to himself. He leaned into the presence, almost giving the mind around him a hug.

"I know. But I'm here now. Do you think you can wake up? I think you'll feel better if you start moving around a little."

While Godzilla processed Nick's question, the human's own thoughts slid back to their situation. They needed to get off the island quickly, not only for Godzilla's safety, but to help Donatello. The pit that had opened in Nick's stomach the minute he learned what Don had done to save them all was getting wider and deeper by the minute.

"Nick."

"What is it, Godzilla?" Nick could feel the lizard waking, his mind settling into even more awareness around him. And something specific was working its way out of the depths to him.

"Friend," the mutant thought at him with the same sense he applied to the rest of HEAT – Godzilla didn't have much use for the concept of allies or companions beyond Nick himself, but he did understand Nick's feelings towards the other humans who were around. This time, however, Godzilla was specifically invoking an image of Donatello, Nick was sure of it. The feelings he got from his charge weren't entirely clear, but he understood.

"What about Donatello?"

Godzilla's answer was less language than his usual communication, but the sense of it was clear anyway. Nick felt like he was sitting on Godzilla's shoulder in a dark place, looking down at Donatello who was somehow there and not there, just as he himself was there and not there.

"You met Don in your mind?"

Affirmation, and then a shaky sort of memory came to him. Godzilla lived very much in the present, and those communications were always clear. Letting his charge take him "swimming," for example, was always vivid, almost too vivid. But anything from the past was usually a little more muddled, not because Godzilla didn't have any memories, but because he simply was a creature of the moment, the immediate. Still, the lizard pieced together a thought, an image, a feeling that had come from the terrapin.

"Wait, you're trying to show me that Donatello gave you a message?" Nick felt pride thunder through him. This was incredible! Who would have guessed how far his mutant charge had come in his understanding and cognition? He concentrated on Godzilla's images, on what he was projecting, and got an unmistakable sense of something.

"You're telling me Donatello told you your eggs were hatching?" Nick thought confusedly through the sensations. Certainly Godzilla had enough instinctive knowledge of eggs and hatching, not only through his own experience but through the nature of his heritage, so that part was clear. And the sense of the eggs actually being Godzilla was strong – possessiveness was definitely a common, and easily-interpreted, feeling from him.

Agreement flooded through the lizard. Nick mentally patted him for his clarity and his intelligence, but still he was puzzled. Why would Donatello tell Godzilla that his eggs were hatching? Don knew as well as Nick did that Godzilla was totally infertile – they'd discussed it more than once. What could he mean?

"I think I need to figure this one out on my own," he said, starting to pull away. "Come with me and wake up now, okay? Come and wake up, Godzilla."

"I will try."

Nick felt his charge pushing him slightly, returning him to his own mind. For not the first time, the scientist wondered how exactly Godzilla could be instinctively so knowledgeable about psychic contact – it was Godzilla who did most of the "driving" between their bond, with Nick imparting a measure of control and influence. But the power and the contact was much more up to the mutant than the man. It was odd.

But not worth pursuing now, as Nick felt his eyes open. He steadied himself before either tipping forward into Godzilla's eye or backwards onto the sand, feeling relief, and yet a twinge of regret as the presence in his mind began to hum again. Their bond was intact, as it had been, for better or worse. And a moment later, Godzilla's enormous eye opened, fixed itself on his parent, and the lizard huffed contentedly. Nick put a hand on the scaly skin, and he smiled a little. When he spoke, he knew his feelings were true, even if he'd never imagined he'd feel so strongly or surely about his charge.

"It's good to have you back, Godzilla."

-==OOO==-

All things considered, finding and sneaking into Bishop's base wasn't nearly as difficult as the turtles had expected. Of course, it helped that Randy had been as good as his word in locating the precise coordinates to lead them there. And, although they didn't have the Shell Sub anymore – it having been lost when Donatello had escaped the compromised lair with Master Splinter – they had some basic breathers Don had whipped up one late night, and they were all strong swimmers. So it wasn't long after they'd reached the familiar skyline and returned the helicopter to its hangar before they were up to their eyes in river water, preparing for the dive.

"Okay, everybody remember the plan?" Leonardo asked as he fitted his breather.

"Nah, I'm dumb that way. Explain it for the third time, please," Raph rolled his eyes. A glare from their sensei cut off the rest of his remark.

"You two will infiltrate the base and locate your brother," Splinter took over. "Michelangelo and I will serve as both distraction and rear-guard. We will ensure there is a path out once you have gotten in."

"And I've got the extra breather," Mikey said, voice a bit more solemn than usual, "so make sure you get Don to me before we bail." It was a well-established fact that Donatello was the strongest swimmer of the four, but there was no telling what shape he'd be in when they found him. If he was hurt or unconscious, it was Michelangelo's job to get him to safety while the other three bought their escape however necessary.

"Right. If we get separated, get Don home. And if you get cornered, head for Staten Island."

"Why Staten, Leo?" Mikey asked.

"It's far, too far for Bishop to expect us to make it," he replied. "And HEAT's lab will do in a pinch until you can get away."

"Won't Bishop expect us to run straight to those guys if we're in trouble?" Raph pointed out.

"Maybe," Leo conceded. "But if Mike is on his own dragging Don, he'll need shelter, and like I said, I don't think he'll expect us to be able to ride the current that long. Besides, there's lots of abandoned buildings in the area he can hide in until we catch up."

"Then we are prepared," Master Splinter said decisively. He pulled his own breather over his snout, grateful that his scientifically-minded son had prepared one especially for him; after the escape from the lair via the Shell Sub, Don had made sure to fit one of the masks for his father's face as well as his slightly different oxygen needs. The ninja master felt something in his heart ache – his gentlest son thought so much about their family, about what he could contribute to keep them all safe and comfortable. He would retrieve his son from the den of evil that had captured him, no matter what the cost.

As one, the four dove beneath the waves and began the descent to the hidden base. The water was a little cold, but nothing they couldn't handle – it was only in winter and early spring that the river was dangerous to the cold-blooded turtles and elderly rat. As they approached the underwater stronghold, they could see the hallmarks of Bishop's work. The dome had once been sloppily constructed, obviously created out of whatever could be found on the ocean floor. Now it was sleek, black, almost seamless.

At a signal from Leo, all four moved abruptly to the right as a spotlight in the murky water swept by them. They were swimming in at an oblique angle and very close together, hoping to pass for a school of fish to any sensors Bishop might employ. Since no squads emerged and no weapons were fired, they assumed they had succeeded – within minutes they were clinging to the bottom of an inbound underwater craft to be carried inside undetected.

Counting five minutes after their ride had docked, the four emerged slowly, using the shadow of the boat to hide their presence. The docking bay was guarded, but only sparsely. Bishop did not anticipate visitors, apparently, though he was paranoid enough to provide some measure of protection. As one, the turtles and their father emerged from the water where the platform was already wet, taking cover behind equipment that had been recently unloaded.

"All right. We're off to find Don. Any idea where they'd be, Mikey?" Leo whispered.

Michelangelo shook his head. Too much had changed, and there was no telling which part of the complex had been converted into what.

"Then we do this the ninja way," Raph grimaced, instinctively drawing his sai as he prepared himself for a fight. They'd sneak for as long as they could, but at some point, given the crazy nature of Bishop's usual security, they'd be running and searching and fighting at the same time. Which was generally how he liked it, but without knowing right where to find Don, they could lose precious time stumbling into goons, time Bishop could use to do more of whatever he'd already done to their brother.

"Take care, my sons," Master Splinter whispered as Leonardo and Raphael vanished into crevices and shadows. He turned to Michelangelo, whose usually bright eyes were troubled. The sensei smiled a little, trying to cheer the youngest of his sons by inviting the sort of chaos he knew the orange-clad turtle often associated with fun.

"So, what sort of distraction shall we provide?"


	14. Rescue in the Deep

This was one of my beta's favorite chapters. Also one of my favorites to write. Just sayin'.

No ownership here. Sadness. But no suing-ness here, either. Which is probably okay.

Enjoy!

* * *

"This is getting old, Leo!" Raph shouted, slamming a fist into a governmental agent and throwing him into two more down the hall.

"I know," Leonardo called back between strikes, "but we have to be close. This is the most heavily-guarded area yet!"

Raph snorted, not bothering to give a real reply as he cleared a few more guards out of their way. They'd gone awfully far into Bishop's hideout before being discovered, and indeed, it had devolved into a running fight while they tried to keep ahead of their worst fears. The fear that they might already be too late, or that their intrusion had caused Bishop to do something…unforgivable. With rage, he demolished the remaining guards in the corridor, nearly lost in what he would have called anger and never have admitted was fear.

"Look!" Leo's shout broke into the angriest turtle's thoughts and he turned to his brother in the sudden quiet of a deserted hallway. "That door!" It wasn't particularly remarkable – it looked quite like every other door they'd seen in the last 15 minutes.

Except this one was locked with a piece of alien technology.

Thankfully, alien technology was still no match for the strength and precision of Leonardo's katana; a moment later and they were inside what was undoubtedly a lab. A table took up the middle of the room, with a few stains on it the red-banded turtle didn't want to look at too closely, and banks of computers lined both walls to either side. There was an awful smell of disinfectant and other drugs that crinkled Raph's nose. Leonardo had stepped into the room, not bothering to close the door, with his brother at his heels, when suddenly the eldest of the turtles stopped as though he'd run into an invisible wall. Raph nearly crashed into Leo's shell, but before he could voice his complaints, his eyes wandered ahead and a wholly new emotion replaced his anger and irritation.

Cold. Raph couldn't help but feel absolutely chilled inside.

Before them, Donatello floated in a cylindrical container, eyes closed, hooked up to a face-mask and a bunch of electrodes all over his body. His bandana was gone, but his belt and pads were intact. There wasn't much that looked physically wrong with him from what Raphael could make out through the bluish fluid that filled the tank, but there was something in the slack expression on what he could see of Don's face that made Raph shiver.

"Hang on, Donnie. We're coming!" Leo declared.

"Any idea how we open that thing?" The red-banded turtle looked around for some kind of lever or obvious On/Off switch, but nothing presented itself. This was a scientific lab – definitely not his specialty.

"Well…this is more Don's thing," Leo hesitated. A shout behind them heralded the arrival of yet more goons, apparently intent on stopping them from doing exactly what they planned to do. Leonardo gave his brother a significant nod in Don's direction and turned to deal with the new enemies. Then he shrugged and drew both katana. "But I'm not too picky."

"Now you're talkin'!" With relish, Raph stepped forward, his sai reversed in his hand so the knuckle was facing forward, the perfect striking weapon. Normally he'd just have flung the sai to impale the container, but without knowing how strong it was or how much force to use, he didn't want to risk accidentally impaling his brother. In one fluid motion, he launched himself forward, striking with every inch of muscle he could summon, the force of his fierce heart behind the blow.

The giant test-tube cracked from the point of impact, droplets and streams of blue liquid streaming out. Sprayed with whatever it was, Raph felt how incredibly cold it was, cold enough to make him draw back instinctively, cold enough to almost burn. Enraged that Donatello was floating in something that cold, when cold was a serious problem for the turtles anyway, Raph struck again, viciously, crashing the sai into the same crack he'd created. A spurt of fluid gushed forward, and he had to dodge to one side to avoid being drenched. A few more strikes later, the blue water was everywhere but the container, and Raph had a hole big enough to pull his brother out.

Raphael set Donatello down on a section of the floor that wasn't wet and tore off the breathing mask and electrodes that he'd simply slashed free to get him out of the tube. There was a terrifying, awful silence when he wasn't sure Don was breathing, but a moment later he felt the chest beneath his hand rise very slightly. He didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that Don's breathing was so shallow, and the breaths so very far apart. His hands were ice-cold, still dripping with whatever liquid had been in the chamber with him. Raphael suddenly had an overpowering need to see his brother open his eyes, to have him move or talk or laugh – anything that wasn't this eerie, freezing stillness. He shook the limp shoulders gently.

"Come on, bro. We gotcha now, we pulled ya out. It's time to wake up. Please, Don."

But eyes stayed closed, hands stayed still, laughter stayed silent.

A spot of purple caught his eye and Raphael turned to see a familiar mask, lying discarded beneath the table in the room. Something about it, about the way it had been obviously cut from his brother's head, sickened him. What on earth had been done to his brother in this room? He shook Donatello again, more forcefully, willing him to respond in some way, but the olive-skinned turtle remained completely motionless.

"Leo!" Raph called to where the blue-banded turtle was holding off all comers from the only door in or out of the lab. Panic began to seep into the corners of his chest where his anger usually lived. This was wrong, very wrong. He knew it. "Leo, he ain't wakin' up!"

"Just grab him, then!" Leonardo shouted back. "Mikey and Master Splinter are waiting for us!"

"But…"

"Come on!"

The command in the eldest turtle's voice was absolute, and Raphael decided to let it stand. After all, he was probably the least-qualified person to do anything about Donatello's condition. Before the unconscious brother in his arms had taken over their medical care, it had always been their father who looked after their hurts and soothed their chills. Even Leo had more medical know-how than Raph. He cursed under his breath as he hefted Donnie into a fireman's carry, suddenly aware of exactly how cold his brother was, and how limp. He pushed the anxiety aside as best he could, trying to replace it with his trademark gruffness. Anything else was too much.

"I ain't a genius, but cold ain't good," he muttered to himself as he jogged to Leo's side, making the tiniest of detours to stop and scoop up the purple bandana from the floor. It just didn't seem right to leave it with Bishop, so he tucked it into his belt instead.

"I'll clear the way," the blue-banded turtle said, shoving hard against the lead attacker to give himself room to enter the hallway. He took a breath to say something else, but decided against it. Reminding Raph that an unconscious Donatello could neither defend himself nor keep himself from being banged around on his brother's shoulder would just antagonize the hot-head unnecessarily. But stealing a glance at the limp form he carried, Leo felt his own rage rise, and his own worry. Don looked dead. He really looked as if he were dead. Even as Leonardo cut down another agent and forced his way along the corridor, he brushed one sword-wielding hand against an arm that dangled, shocked at how cold it felt to the touch. "Be okay, Donnie. Please be okay," his heart whispered.

-==OOO==-

"Well, this is becoming less fun!" Michelangelo yelled to nobody in particular. He executed a backflip to give himself a little more space, taking stock of the situation. The docking bay was still surprisingly sparsely populated, not more than a dozen or so agents crowding along the edge of the water. But it didn't matter how many there were – the problem was with what they were doing.

"Let's hope we keep that tractor beam out of commission or this is gonna be a real short trip," he said to himself. Star Wars or otherwise, their situation was similar – the manual release for the bay doors was the only strategic thing of importance at present, and if any of Bishop's goons reached it, their way out would be a lot more complicated. Splinter had taken up a position guarding the appropriate panel, leaving Michelangelo to handle everybody else. And they were doing all right, but a few agents had arrived with tranquilizer guns in their hands, so Mikey was starting to wonder how much longer before they really were overrun.

"Mikey!"

The orange-clad ninja turned, grateful to hear the voice shouting his name. A moment later, Leonardo burst through the doorway, taking out two men as he did so, with Raphael on his heels. Don hung limply over Raph's shoulder, and Mikey sucked in his breath in sudden panic. The next moment was a blur as he simply removed whatever stood between him and his brothers, not even completely cognizant of how many opponents he took out in the process. He skidded to Raph's side.

"Raph! Leo! Is he…?" but he couldn't finish the question. He just couldn't.

"He's alive," Raphael said, but there was weight in his voice. Fear.

"Mikey, it's time – let's go!" Leo ordered. Suddenly clumsy, Michelangelo fumbled at his belt, his fingers oddly numb with cold that was not his own. He pulled out a handful of smoke-pellets, which he flung across the room, feeling a familiar sense of security wash over him as they obscured the brothers from sight. Engulfed in the thick cloud, he fitted a breather securely over Donatello's beak, aghast at how frigid and still his brother was.

"My sons," Splinter whispered softly, rejoining them. They could hear the confusion in the obscurity, and over it all a loudspeaker crackling to life from which Bishop was giving orders, apparently shouting as he ran. "The way is clear. Retreat at once!"

"Take good care of 'im," Raph said roughly, shifting the limp weight in his arms. The little group made their way to the dock's edge, where the red-clad turtle soundlessly slid Donatello's body into the water. Michelangelo affixed his own mask, then moved into the water himself. The fact that the chilly river was warmer than his brother's skin worried him, but he didn't have time to be worried.

"Use this," Leo murmured, handing over a rope he'd brought along. Mikey quickly tied one end around Don's waist, lashing the clammy body to his own tightly. Without waiting for the others, he dove, making as much speed as he could for the open door below. His brothers and father would follow, he knew, but his responsibility was clear.

"Hang on, Donnie. I'll get you out of here," he breathed. Don's dead weight – no, not dead! – hampered him in the water somewhat. He could use his arms and legs freely with his brother tied to his shell, but he was as maneuverable as a barge. In the darkness of the water, he spotted the hatch to freedom, thankfully still standing wide open. With a burst of paranoid panic he shot through it, then began looping around to the south, as if he were heading for the open sea. Hopefully this would confuse any pursuers.

Behind him, Michelangelo became aware of three forms catching up to him – he knew by instinct that they were Leo, Raph, and their father, rather than more of Bishop's goons. Mikey shuddered enough to interrupt a stroke, quickly compensating with a sharp kick. He couldn't help it. He knew, knew for sure, that Bishop would be right behind them with subs and boats and guns and everything else, his brother was really, really unconscious, not to mention colder than ice, and who knew what that meant anyway, and he was moving with all the speed of traffic on a Friday afternoon at rush hour.

A sudden tug from behind him and a release of weight told the orange-banded turtle that one of his brothers, probably Leo, had grabbed onto Don to help him. Without even looking, Michelangelo adjusted his rhythms, swimming with his heartbeat, feeling his older brother settle into the pattern at once. On one side, Raph flanked them, his face darker than usual as he peered backwards now and again for danger. On the other Master Splinter swam along, the least skilled in the water of them all. He did not fail to keep up with his sons, but he had less energy to spare.

Sound traveled well underwater, so Raphael's sudden muttered "oh, shell" was heard by them all. The angriest turtle stopped swimming and turned in place, sais in hand. The weight returned to Mikey's shell as Leo turned to join him. Apparently their getaway had been too easy. Michelangelo longed to look back, to see what their odds were, to help, but he knew he couldn't. His job was to get Donatello to safety, no matter what. Their sensei was simply not built to carry a full-grown mutant ninja turtle all the way back to the lair. His brothers were not more skilled, but they were angrier in their ways, and Mikey was the fastest.

He redoubled his efforts, cutting through the water with new abandon, fighting a current as he started to head for the shore. With Don this much out of commission, there was no way they'd make it all the way to Staten Island, even if it was a good retreat. But if he could get into the sewers of Manhattan, no matter where they landed, he could get them home. He knew he could. He'd have to.

Something whizzed by Mikey close enough to push him off course, and he looked back. Divers had crowded around his brothers, armed with what looked like combinations between harpoons and regular firearms. Also nets.

"Nets? Really?" he asked, both unimpressed and worried. Even though net-throwing was the Saturday morning cartoon version of bad-guy behavior, if Bishop was looking to recapture them, especially Don, that was not a good sign.

Splinter's hand cut across his vision as the rat gestured. Not far, hidden in the shadows, was what looked like an old sewer runoff. It wasn't as nice as their access-way had been once, but it looked like it might lead somewhere, anywhere. And anywhere was better than the water! Mikey dove for it.

And then he was tumbling head over feet, thrown wildly off-balance without knowing why. When he righted himself, there was blood in the water. But he didn't feel hurt…

"Donatello!" Master Splinter's voice, even muffled by the breather and enhanced by the water, was tight with pain. "Quickly!"

Michelangelo couldn't see what had happened, but he didn't want to know. He wanted to get his brother to safety. Now. He kicked with all the strength he had, hitting the runoff hard enough to almost jam himself against the metal grate that supposedly closed it off. But before he could even draw his weapons, a katana was beside him, slicing the way free. Mikey turned back to see the others beside him, neither Raph nor Leo looking hurt, but their eyes were wide with fear as they looked at a point behind his head. There was still blood in the water.

-==OOO==-

Bishop slammed a fist into the nearest console as he directed the search for the escaped turtles. Confound those turtles! It never seemed to matter how well-concealed his base was or how well-guarded – they always managed to breach the perimeter, and they always got away. Even as he sent his fourth team down into the sewers after the escaped group, he knew perfectly well he wouldn't be able to retrieve Donatello that way. The turtles and the rat were too skilled, and they knew the sewers too well. They could vanish into the labyrinth beneath the city and be completely off Bishop's radar if they wished. Which he would have to do as well, now that his base was, once again, compromised.

"It shouldn't be a total loss, however," he said to himself, eyes glancing over various monitors that had recorded every instant of the entry, retrieval, and escape. "There's a few places close to hand that should suit my purposes. And I did cover the evidence."

Even as he smirked with triumph, a part of Bishop was concerned. That shot he'd taken to the back of Donatello's head was a gamble, for sure; he'd just barely joined the assault team in time to get into a position from which he could fire at the retreating forms. On the one hand, it would hide any evidence of his work, hide it so well that the amateurs that served as allies to the turtles would never find what he had done. But on the other, there was a slight risk of his project being damaged as a result. After all, a blow to the head was not precisely in line with his needs for Donatello's brain. But he was a gambling man, after all, and confident his outcome would be within acceptable parameters one way or another.

"Call it off," he ordered curtly into a mic, signaling all of the teams to retreat. The turtles had been out of visual range for an hour – he'd never locate them now. But it didn't matter.

"They'll resurface eventually. And when they do, I'll reclaim my experiment and continue. And in the meantime, I have plenty of samples to keep me busy."

-==OOO==-

The HEAT-Seeker cut through the waves with somewhat less than breakneck speed. Everybody who wasn't steering had been banished from the pilot house after driving Monique to distraction with their nervousness. Mendel had gone below to keep working on the turtle-tracker device, but Elsie and Randy joined Nick at the bow.

"Definitely not faster than a speeding bullet," the red-head sighed. The temporary repairs Randy had completed kept the boat afloat, but he'd had to sacrifice speed for basic functionality.

"Better late than never," Randy replied.

"Let's hope so," Nick said. In his heart he was swimming with Godzilla, somewhere far beneath them and to the south where the hunting was good – the lizard definitely needed to regain some strength after everything he'd been through lately. But in his mind he wanted to be right with their new friends, springing Donatello from a mad scientist who barely passed muster as a government agent.

"They'll be fine," Elsie patted his shoulder. "They're tough. And they've got several hours' head start on us. By the time we get home, they'll be eating dinner and watching the news."

"I know, I just have a feeling…" Nick was interrupted by the chirping of his cell phone. It was a text, and though he was glad to know, he didn't feel much tension drain from him at the update.

"Got Don safe but out cold. Heading home. Will call if need help. Thanks."

"See, jefe?" Randy smiled. "All taken care of."

"Yeah. Now maybe I can get some answers about…" Nick trailed off, unsure. But the two beside him knew him too well. Elsie put a hand on his wrist, just in case the far-off look in his eyes was Godzilla intruding on his mind and not a side-effect of being lost in thought.

"What is it?" she asked. Nick took a breath, and decided that keeping it from HEAT wouldn't help even one bit. He had already sketched out to the team the mental journey he'd undertaken with Donatello to try to save Godzilla's mind. The scientist figured he might as well fill them in on the rest.

"When Godzilla was recovering," he explained, "something happened. He connected to Donatello somehow, and brought me a message. I guess Don thought he might not get out in one piece and had to pass something important to me, but I don't know what it means."

"What kind of message?" Randy wanted to know. The fact that the two coolest mutants ever were having tea in their minds didn't interest him nearly as much as it probably should have, all things considered.

"He told me that Godzilla's eggs were hatching."

"Eggs?" Elsie repeated. "But Godzilla can't breed. We know that."

"So does Donnie," Nick nodded. "It's got to be code for something."

"Well, you are talking about transmitting knowledge mind-to-mind, and one of those minds is Godzilla's," the red-head considered. "You've always said his understanding is limited, even though he's intelligent."

"Right."

"What kind of language do you communicate in? Klingon?" Randy asked. At the glare from Nick, he coughed awkwardly. "Joking aside, languages count. You have to know what computer language you're working with to hack it completely. If it's a code, you have to know what language it started in before you can decrypt it."

"Well, Godzilla mostly communicates in images. Feelings. Not words, not often, and then only words with really concrete meaning behind them." Nick thought about what Randy had said – it was a good point. "The message itself wasn't in words, just sensations."

"So maybe Don gave him a message he knew could be relayed to you," Elsie said excitedly. "Like speaking a foreign language with your mind. He gave it to Godzilla in a form he could understand to pass to you."

"So what would Don be saying that he would distill down to 'eggs' then?" Nick asked aloud, the wheels in his own head turning.

"It actually could be a computer language," Randy suggested. "Sometimes we call distribution modules in code 'eggs.'" At the blank looks, he explained, "They're ways of breaking up the programming into pieces that can run alongside the main program. Like offshoots of the main one. You know, like real eggs."

"Godzilla doesn't have programming," Elsie pointed out, though her voice was thoughtful. "And he doesn't have offspring."

"But laying eggs isn't the only way to reproduce something from a source," Nick said, realization dawning. "Godzilla might not lay eggs himself, but that doesn't mean he couldn't be copied, smaller versions produced artificially."

"You're talking about cloning." Elsie frowned. Nobody could be ambitious and yet thoughtless enough to want more than one Godzilla in the world. He was almost more than the world could take all on his own.

"Little versions of the G-man running around? Hello higher insurance prices," Randy quipped.

"It's got to be that. Bishop is cloning Godzilla, and Donatello wanted to warn us." Nick gripped the rail and looked out over the water, newly aware of his charge in his mind. He resolved to talk to Donatello as soon as the turtle was well again. If somebody as dangerous as Agent Bishop had his hands on Godzilla's DNA, if he had the means to produce even one more giant mutant, nothing good could come of it. The scientist cast his mind down to the giant creature that lived beside his thoughts. He wasn't sure he could protect Godzilla from Bishop at all, especially if Bishop came equipped with a giant mutant of his own for a sidekick.

-==OOO==-

He was warm. Comfy. With a lazy sigh, he shifted slightly, curling more tightly into the softness around him. Drowsily, he pushed an eye open, recognizing his pillow by its purple tint and that one ink stain that never seemed to wash out. He let his eye close again, indulging the desire to snuggle even deeper into the warm around him. It was absolutely heavenly after…

After…?

Donatello's eyes flew open as events rushed back. Godzilla, the island, the lab, Bishop.

"Bishop!" he gasped. The turtle rocked up to his knees, pushing himself from where he'd been lying on his plastron in a sudden panic as he readied himself to either fight or run. He looked around in confusion as a pile of blankets pooled around his waist. His pillow. His bed.

"Calm down, Donnie. You're safe now," Leo said gently. Don blinked. The lights of his room were out, but a few candles lit the space enough to be identifiable. Near the bed, his eldest brother was sitting on the floor. His position suggested meditation, but the look in Leonardo's eyes indicated that the turtle hadn't been able to meditate – that he had, in fact, been watching Donatello sleep.

"Leo? What happened?" His voice was sticky, groggy, and he coughed on a strangely-familiar scent in the back of his throat. A sudden, dull pain in his head, probably from sitting up too fast, made things swim before him, and Don decided it might be wise to lie back down. He tipped forward slowly, noticing that his bed had a whole lot of extra blankets and pillows on it. His brother stood, helping to ease him back into the nest he had vacated.

"Careful, Donnie. You got a nasty blow to the head, so it's no wonder you're dizzy. Take it easy." Leonardo put a hand on his brother's shoulder, sensing a certain amount of calm settle over the younger turtle. "You're home. We got you."

"What happened?" Don repeated. He could feel bandages at the base of his skull, and the familiar pain of what were probably stitches.

"What do you think? We came after you as soon as the deal was done. Don," and Leo's voice shifted, from the gentle answering tone to the sharper voice all the brothers associated with a steady wind-up into a lecture, "you shouldn't have done that."

"I know," he sighed.

"You could have been killed! As it is, we have no idea what Bishop did to you. And it's a miracle we found you at all! Are you taking lessons from Raph on giving me heart attacks or what?" Now the blue-banded turtle had left his side and was pacing in the small space.

"We didn't have a choice," Donatello replied softly. Really, being lectured right after coming to was not his favorite thing ever. Far from.

"There's always a choice. You taught me that." The elder turtle stopped pacing and met Don's eyes unflinchingly. There was the burden of leadership there, for sure, but more than that, there was fear and loss and guilt. "The whole thing was a disaster. There you were, hundreds of miles from us, and in trouble. It took us two hours to get to you, the longest two hours since…"

"Since I mutated with the outbreak virus," Don finished for him. Leo swallowed hard and nodded.

"And then we finally get there and there's Bishop and Godzilla's going crazy, and we didn't even get the chance to see you! You were gone before we even knew if you were really okay."

"Master Splinter saw me. He knew I was fine."

"True," Leo conceded, "but it's not the same and you know it. And you…you traded yourself to Bishop! How could you do that? What if we couldn't get to you in time? How could you take that risk?"

To Leonardo's surprise, his brother smiled, propping himself up on one elbow. "I knew you'd come for me."

"Don," Leo dropped to his knees beside the bed. "We could have lost you. I…I'd have lost you and it was all my fault."

"You can't take all our burdens, bro. Even if you want to. I made my choice, and I accepted the consequences of it. You can't put us on a pedestal where we do no wrong and you are responsible for everything. You just can't. You've got to trust me to make the call when I have to. You always do."

"You…I probably trust you more than anybody, Donnie," Leo leaned his head on his brother's forearm and breathed out gallons of worry and fear. "You're the one I know will find a way out of something, a way none of us could find without you. Of all of us, you're the one I actually think could get away from Bishop all on your own, because you'd outsmart him. But I don't want you to have to do that. I want to make sure you don't have to…"

"You trust me, Leo," Don said gently, leaning his own forehead on his brother's shoulder. "Keep trusting me. I trusted you. I knew you'd tear the world apart to find me, and I knew you'd be in time. I knew it. You'd never let me down."

"But without you, how did you think I was going to find you?"

"Well," Don pointed out, "you obviously did find me. I assumed you'd get help from our friends or you'd have HEAT track either Bishop or me depending on who you asked. You should trust them, too," he said. "They've got a ton of knowledge and skills even I don't have. If something happened to me…"

"I won't let it," and Leo's voice was as fiery as it had been afraid.

"I know. But if it did, those guys would be able to help you where April or Leatherhead can't. They're as good as me, better, and they'd take care of things. I…"

"That's why you made friends with them," the blue-clad turtle realized, meeting Don's eyes. "In case we ever needed them. You were making a contingency plan for us."

"Well," he squirmed, then nodded. "Yeah."

Leonardo closed his eyes. He briefly considered shaking his brother, smacking the sense into him that was so clear to himself. They couldn't, couldn't lose Donnie any more than they could lose anybody else. They were all they had in life. How could Donatello quietly lay plans that included the possibility of his absence? And yet, Leo couldn't blame him. Not only was it sensible and logical and scientific, but it was also compassionate, showing a wide view of his family's needs. It was Don all over.

"Donatello," Leo shook his head, putting a hand in his brother's and gripping it firmly. "Thank you for being you. For looking out for us, for trusting us, for taking those risks for our sake. Thank you for being you. Don't ever stop that." Then a wicked gleam crept into his eyes and smile.

"But…?" Don asked, hearing the silent continuation in his brother's voice.

"But if you ever do anything like that again, I'll let Mikey into your lab and tell him you hide chocolate in your computers."

"You wouldn't!" Don sat up, aghast.

"Try me." With an even wider grin, the eldest turtle turned to call over his shoulder, "Hey guys! Don's awake!"

Moments later, two more turtles were crowding into the room, teasing and admonishing and smacking each other, only to be disciplined by Leo, and trying to pile on his bed without hurting him, and again being disciplined by Leo, only to have all three shooed from the space by Master Splinter. But not before Raphael managed to push something into Don's hands – his mask, torn, but there with him again.

"My son? Do you feel all right?" the sensei asked, looking at the wetness in Don's eyes as he watched his brothers leave.

"Yeah." He smiled and breathed deeply, fingering the ruined material. "I'm fine. Everything's fine."


	15. Consequences

Sorry for the long delay. I really don't have any kind of useful excuse, but I can make one up: blame the kittens and the Turkish door-to-door hydrangea salesman and the unseasonable outbreak of grasshopper pizza. How's that?

Standard disclaimers apply – still not mine, but I love them regardless.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Shouldn't we be closer?" Raphael asked quietly, looking down from the roof to the ferry building below.

"I don't think so. We'll be able to see if anything happens from here," Leo replied easily. "But if we get much closer, Don'll know we followed him." The three of them were perched in the shadows, even though it was unlikely there was anyone anywhere nearby to see them that wasn't a brother or a member of HEAT – it wasn't even yet 10pm, so the streets were still full of people, and therefore, they were instinctively cautious.

"He probably knows anyway," Mikey pointed out. Of the three of them, he was the most in awe of Donatello's intelligence, and therefore the most likely to remind them that it took a lot to put one over on him or catch him off-guard. Which, obviously, didn't stop him from trying; cheering up the Mr Crabby Pants Of The Lair Award Winner Of The Week was his job, and while that honor was rarely bestowed on Donnie, sometimes the genius needed it, too. After all, with Raph busy being a shell-for-brains and Leo being, well, Leo, any sane turtle might lose it. And Michelangelo wouldn't miss one chance to make his brother smile. Don needed more reasons to smile after everything he'd been through.

"That's just 'cause you can't keep from blabbin," Raph smirked.

"And you scare shadows into making noise with your ugly face," the orange-clad snapped back, grinning.

"You're probably right," Leo interjected. "Not about each other," he glared at them, "but that Don knows we're here. He hasn't said anything, but he had that look on his face when he asked if we would be bored while he was gone tonight."

"We ain't gonna be bored until Bishop's dealt with," Raph said darkly. "That guy has his sights set on Donnie, I know it."

Leonardo thought carefully before saying anything. The fact was that all of them, including Master Splinter, had the feeling that Donatello was specifically of interest to Bishop now, though they weren't quite sure why. Before, he'd just wanted to dissect them, learn to reproduce their mutations by trial and error. But there was no denying the chill on the back of Leo's neck – Raph was right and he could feel it. There was something about their gentlest brother that Bishop wanted, and for as long as that was true, Don was in serious danger.

So, as soon as Don had been pronounced well enough for normal activities, he hadn't so much as set a foot outside the lair without an escort, usually in secret, although they did follow him some places openly, too. To his credit, Donatello had not yet confronted his brothers about what was probably an annoying situation, and Leo hoped he wouldn't for a while. He was counting on that legendary calm and accommodating nature to buy them more time to keep an eye on him while they figured things out.

But even with their suspicions alerted to Bishop, Leo's was a fine line to tread. His gut told him Don was in danger, but he didn't want to edge Raph to the point of wanting to track down Bishop to deal with it. Something still didn't make sense, something still bothered Leo about the whole situation. That fight on the island, when Bishop got his hands on Don, it just didn't fit. There was a plan in motion, and Leonardo didn't really want to speed it up or change it without knowing what it was first. Normally he'd have gone straight to Don for his insight, knowing that he himself couldn't see as many angles, couldn't imagine as many possibilities. But, since Donatello was at the heart of it, he hadn't asked his genius brother for help on this one yet. He just wanted to keep Don out of it for a little longer. For as long as possible. He wanted to keep them all out of it until they had no choice. So he had to walk a delicate balance, guarding Donatello in secret, but not encouraging Raphael's desire for vengeance or Michelangelo's tendency to forget the seriousness of things.

"Be that as it may," Leo said after a moment, "until we know what Bishop wants with Don, we can't keep him cooped up. And he'd feel like we were questioning his ability to take care of himself if he caught us babysitting him like this. But you're right, he probably knows we're here. And since he hasn't said anything, he probably doesn't mind too much yet. Let's keep it that way for a while longer if we can."

Raphael grunted but didn't say anything. As far as he was concerned, the sneaking around was a little important, but mostly stupid. Left to his own devices, he'd have taken the fight straight to Bishop already, to make him pay for hurting Donnie. But rushing in head-first was really only his deal – his brothers were a little more cautious, and for now, he would let them take the lead. Don was in no shape to join a fight yet, even if he had mostly healed, and three turtles did not usually bode well against the government agent. But if they waited too long, he might well take matters into his own hands.

The red-banded turtle turned his eyes to where Donatello had vanished into the ferry building. He would much rather have been openly at his brother's side. Not just to protect him – this would be a pretty stupid place for Bishop to attack after all – but just to be there. How many times was something going to happen to the brainiac without anyone there to protect him? It was Don who had been captured by the Triceratons when no one was nearby. It had been Don who transformed into a monstrous version of himself alone in April's apartment. It had been Don taken by Bishop while his brothers fought on the sand yards away. It wasn't fair.

Raph didn't doubt Donatello could handle himself. But the point was that he shouldn't have to – none of his family should have to go through that stuff alone. The lone-wolf thing, that was all Raph's territory. He walked alone for himself, but his job was to make sure none of the others ever lacked for back-up. If one of the others was in trouble in a fight, he was there to help out. If one was stuck dealing with something too big for one turtle, he was there to pick up the rest. Already there was so much he couldn't help Donnie with, although he did work with his brainy brother on basic vehicle maintenance, it wasn't right for Don to have to deal with anything else without help. Raph would have traded places with Donnie in a heartbeat if it would have saved him from the mutation or from Bishop; the fact now that Bishop was gunning for him only made the sai-wielding turtle angrier. If one more bad thing happened to Don and he wasn't there to help, he might just lose it.

Together, the three kept watch over their brother, just in case.

-==OOO==-

"Hey! Long time no see!" Randy shouted. Four other heads swiveled in place, though Monique didn't take her eyes off of the table before her. She had known the others for too long to be entirely willing to leave the situation totally unguarded against treachery.

"Don!" Elsie was the first to her feet, leaving the table entirely. She wasn't a hug-y person as a rule, but she put an arm over his shoulders and squeezed, glad to see him up and around and safe. Donatello, having entered the lab completely unnoticed, smiled a little awkwardly.

"How are you feeling?" Nick asked, also rising from his seat. He extended a hand, which the turtle took warmly. They'd exchanged several emails after the Bishop incident, which had put his mind mostly at ease as to the well-being of his friend, but the purple-banded turtle hadn't been to visit. Nick's sharp eyes caught the remaining bandage on the back of his head, held in place by a bandana he could see was new. "Must have been some head-wound to take that long to heal," he thought to himself.

"Fine. I still get a few headaches, but nothing major," Don shrugged cheerfully. "Sorry it's been so long…"

"You required rest to heal," Monique said simply. "We are not offended."

"Yeah. Just glad you're okay," Mendel put in from where he sat tinkering with NIGEL. He didn't get up to greet the visitor, but he was relieved just the same. The last time he'd seen Don, he hadn't been sure he'd ever see him again.

"So, you want in?" Randy asked. Don moved closer to the table, his smile widening at the pile of chips amassed at Monique's seat. Randy, not unpredictably, was almost tapped out. He grinned at the hacker and gave him a high-five.

"Losing that bad, huh?"

"What can I say? My poker skills just aren't at their best for once," he replied loftily. Randy made a great show of suffering and launched into a long lament for the loss of favor by Lady Luck, that his attempts to woo her with his charm had not been successful for a while.

"Neither are your attempts to cheat," Elsie pointed out, retaking her seat.

"Hey! Can I help it if a couple extra cards ended up in the deck?" Randy protested.

"And you ought to work on your sleight of hand," Monique added, slapping the attempted grab at a few of her winnings from under the table, her fears of treachery well-founded. Though her voice was chiding, there was the tiniest quirk of a smile at the corners of her mouth, one she did not attempt to hide even from Donatello.

"Man, I'm catching it from all sides today! So you want us to deal you in?" he asked Don while sadly poking at his meager stash.

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to Nick, whenever you're done." Donatello raised his hands at the sudden worry in five faces. "Nothing serious, well, not yet. I don't think."

"Way to engender confidence there," Nick commented, winking. The turtle shifted his weight.

"It's no big deal," he said, smiling again. "Just something to ask that I think might be up your alley." There was something so easy-going in his manner, something relaxed and nonchalant, and the worried faces found themselves relaxing in turn.

"All right. We'll finish this up and then we can talk," Nick decided. "Besides, it only seems fair to give Randy one last chance to redeem himself."

"Oh, as if poker could redeem him," Mendel muttered, returning to his work.

Don wandered over to the roboticist, looking NIGEL up and down critically. He'd worked with the robot several times since befriending HEAT, and he'd even added a few little tweaks to the design when asked. Craven was particularly protective of this creation, and Donnie understood why – it was a pretty impressive gadget, all things considered. Still, there were some gaps in the structure as well as the programming, and he wordlessly leaned over to help.

"If you re-tuned that to a slightly higher frequency," he said, pointing at the piece Dr Craven was tinkering with, "it will probably boost your signal resolution by at least 30 percent."

"Good point," Mendel nodded, grateful. As he worked on implementing Don's suggestion, he failed to see Randy shoot the turtle a sudden worried glance, and the ninja wink solemnly back. Donatello had long since figured out the hole Randy exploited to regularly reprogram NIGEL for his own amusement, and he had quietly decided not to point it out to Craven just yet. After all, what was the fun of everything working perfectly every time?

Donatello fixed his eyes firmly on the circuitry before him, focusing on the humor, the at-ease behavior he was deliberately employing. Of all his brothers, Don was certainly the worst liar, and moments like this, when he was being watched by multiple observers, were difficult. But he knew body-language and had honed every expressive muscle in his own body with his ninja training, so he had at least some shot of pulling off the deception long enough.

Don's mind swam, momentarily, and he found himself picturing Godzilla again, not giant and well-developed but instead smaller and oddly out of proportion. The lizard seemed to be confined in a small space, and he was struggling. It was an image that had begun in the turtle's dreams a week after his rescue, and he'd dismissed it as solely the creation of his subconscious until he saw it again and again, dreaming the same scene every night, all night long. And now it rose unbidden in his mind while he was awake as well. So far, Don had avoided mentioning it to his brothers – they'd probably just send him to Leatherhead for more tests – but if something was wrong with Godzilla, Nick would tell him. And then there was this…

"Donnie?"

The purple-banded ninja had enough presence of mind not to whip around as if startled, instead turning distractedly to where Nick was leaning over him, forehead furrowed. Don turned his surprise into a sheepish grin.

"Sorry. Lost in thought." When Nick smiled, Don relaxed again. It was absolutely true, and if his human friend was inclined to believe that he had been distracted by robotics and programming, there was no real reason to enlighten him.

"Come on. I get the feeling we should do this where it's…quieter," Nick replied, pointing over his shoulder. Don followed the gesture with his eyes to see Randy hopping around Monique, apparently pleading for some of his losings, Elsie helpfully egging him on. The turtle grinned and nodded. As Nick led the way outside to the dock that overlooked the water, he suddenly had the unmistakable feeling of eyes on him; Don turned enough to see a piercing look from Monique pointed in his direction. He pretended not to notice and followed Nick into the quiet night air.

"Monique?" Elsie asked, seeing that the Frenchwoman was momentarily ignoring Randy for real, instead of acting like she was above noticing him.

"Something is amiss," she said shortly. "That is all." And with a disdainful glare at the hacker still pestering her, she strode in the opposite direction of Nick and Donatello.

"What's goin' on?" Randy asked, suddenly confused. Mendel and Elsie traded looks and shrugged.

-==OOO==-

"It's not just the dreams," Don finished, sighing. "There's also this that I don't understand." He held out a sheet of paper.

Nick took the offered printout and looked at it, mind working quickly. Donnie was dreaming about Godzilla? And, although the turtle was not describing the experience as particularly frightening, it certainly seemed to be bothering him. He skimmed the document in his hand, then looked up.

"It's an email I sent you a while ago?" he made it a question.

"Yeah. You said I sent you a message through Godzilla? Something about eggs and cloning?"

"Yes, he woke up and told me you'd spoken to him…" Nick said slowly. Donatello sighed and leaned on the railing.

"I believe you, if you say I got a message to Godzilla while I was in Bishop's lab, but I don't remember it. I don't remember anything from the time he put me under until I woke up at home." He stared out at the water. "So either I'm having psychic contact with Godzilla without my knowledge, or something else happened in between that caused me to forget."

"I can't tell you much," the scientist moved to stand beside him, "but Godzilla's impression was really clear. You told him to tell me his eggs were hatching, and you were worried enough about it that you got through to him somehow. He's not the easiest guy to talk with, you know," Nick smiled ruefully. Far away, a giant nuclear mutant chased a school of fish, completely aware of his parent and entirely focused on the pursuit.

"I know that. I just…I'm worried about the time I was in that lab. What if he did something to me, something else I've forgotten?" Don asked, turning to face his friend again. "What else don't I remember? And how did I contact Godzilla anyway? And how would I know about the cloning? According to the guys I was with Bishop for less than 6 hours, but I was only aware for about the first half an hour. I'm worried about what might have happened in between."

"Have you talked to your family about this?"

"No," and he deflated a little. "I don't want them to worry. This isn't the first or the second time they've been put in danger to get me out of a bad spot. The least I can do is not bring that danger home with me. They worry about me too much already. I can't ask them to worry even more, especially when there's not a lot they can do about it now. Whatever happened is over, but what if it isn't really over?"

"So what do you need?" Nick put a hand on his friend's shoulder, as always surprised at the odd warmth of the green skin, the iron of the muscles beneath his touch. Somehow, life seemed to hum through Donatello the same way it did through Godzilla – both had a vibrancy that radiated from them far more than any human being Nick had ever met.

"Can you help me find out if anything is different about me? Run your tests, compare it to the data you already had on me and what I've already got? Maybe we'll see if I'm just getting nervous about nothing."

Don felt the cold in the pit of his stomach warm just slightly as he finally voiced the question. The thought that Bishop might have done something to him, something he couldn't remember, had torn at him. And, though he knew his brothers and his father and even Leatherhead and April and Casey would have supported him completely, he just couldn't watch them worry over him again. Nick didn't have the same history, the same burden, the same memories to contend with, and he was a top-notch scientist with good equipment to boot. Help from this quarter would spare his family maybe needless anxiety, and would get him the answers he so needed for himself.

"You got it." Nick flashed a reassuring smile. "We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Come on," and he gave the shoulder a tug. Nick could almost feel Donatello's relief at his assistance. He remembered all at once that the turtle before him, for all his intellect and skills, was still just a kid in some ways. A kid who was scared and needed help. Well, he'd get it, the best HEAT could offer. Nick would see to it.

-==OOO==-

Monique permitted them a small, satisfied smile. She had emerged onto the rooftop in near-silence, but before taking more than a few steps she'd been surrounded by three turtles. They moved with true silence, invisible in the darkness of the night and the shadows of the rooftop in a way even she had to envy.

"What're you doing here?" the red-banded turtle asked roughly, turning from her disinterestedly to look towards the ferry building HEAT called their headquarters.

"I might ask you the same thing," she pointed out.

"We're tailing Donatello," Leonardo answered simply. "We think he might still be a target for Bishop, so we've been keeping an eye on him when he's out."

"Understandable. Likely a wise precaution," she nodded. "But I believe there is more troubling your brother than his recent experiences, no? More reason for you to be concerned than a possible attack?"

"What do you mean?" Leo replied "More troubling Don? I mean, not that being captured by Bishop wouldn't shake anybody, because it would, but why do you think we should be worried?"

"Because he's been having nightmares. And headaches." Raph and Leo turned to look at their youngest brother in surprise. Mikey shrugged. "What? You didn't know?"

"Obviously not," Leonardo said sharply.

"So what's goin' on with him?" Raph demanded.

"Well, I don't really know," and he looked at his feet, "'cause I didn't ask. But he's been having bad dreams. You can always tell because he makes his bed."

"What?" Monique asked, confusion blossoming in her face.

"Really! The only time Donnie ever makes his bed is when he's had a bad dream. I asked him about it once, when I was teasing him about nightmares making him wet the bed, and after he bopped me he said it had something to do with changing the parameters. Something about preconceptions and the subconscious and…yeah, I didn't follow it, but it's just what he does. Me, I just go sleep with Raph." He grinned.

"Don't I know it, you shell-for-brains," his brother grumbled.

"He's been making his bed ever since Bishop," Michelangelo continued. "And he's been having headaches, too."

"Now that you mention it, he has been acting a little under the weather, even taking breaks from the computer voluntarily," Leo said thoughtfully. "I guess I didn't put it together."

"How could ya? That's the brainiac's job." Raphael huffed, but he was rather annoyed. Donnie'd been bothered and he hadn't even noticed. The only comfort was that apparently the fearless leader, self-proclaimed observant protector of the family, hadn't noticed either.

"Why is it you are aware then?" Monique questioned, turning to the orange-banded turtle. Of the four, this one had won the least of her respect. To all appearances, he seemed to be no better than Randy in terms of maturity, with only his skills as a ninja making him worth even the slightest bit of notice.

Michelangelo shrugged again. How could he explain it to them? He'd been worried about Donnie, he'd been scared when he thought he might lose his brother again, and he'd been keeping an eye on him. After all, some part of Mikey felt that he was at fault for the blow Don took to the back of his head while they'd been fleeing Bishop, that if he'd been faster or more agile his brother wouldn't have been hurt worse. But besides that, Don was often his confidant, his friend, the stable one he could tell he'd broken something or caused some kind of catastrophe without being lectured or pounded. He wasn't very good at medicine, and he couldn't help Don with the science stuff, but the least he could do was be a brother, watch for a time he was needed, and just be there before Donnie even had to ask.

"It is possible then, that your brother has been compromised," Monique asked darkly.

"What do you mean?" Leo turned to look at her, his own face darkening in return.

"Precisely what I have said." She kept her voice cool, her mind analytical. "You do not know yourselves what was done to him while in the hands of your enemy. You do know that he has been affected. Whatever occurred that caused Donatello to be in the state he is in now might have left other symptoms that have not yet been made apparent."

"What exactly are you saying?" Raph wanted to know, fingering a sai angrily. Not angry with Monique, but with the world. Okay, maybe a little angry with Monique, for suggesting it.

"Can you be certain that your secrets are not in the hands of that man? That your location is not being fed to him by a bug planted on your brother? That he is not an unwitting weapon against you?"

"No way!" Mikey shouted. Leo raised a hand.

"Don checked himself for bugs and didn't find anything. But," and he met the other turtles' eyes, "she has a point. We don't know what could have happened that wouldn't leave something Don could track."

"So what're we gonna do about it? Slice him up the same way Bishop would to check for whatever you're worried about?" Raph knew he was pushing Leo's buttons, but he didn't care. Suspecting Don of giving Bishop any amount of help was like suggesting he'd actively betrayed them, and Raphael knew to his bones that not one of them would ever, ever do that.

"Never. But we'll watch him, watch for anything out of the ordinary. And if we see something…" the blue-clad turtle hesitated.

"You must act immediately," Monique put in. "You cannot run the risk of inaction."

"No." The steel in Leonardo's voice surprised them all, and comforted those who knew its sound so well. "If we see something, we'll ask Don. There's nobody better than him to help figure it out."

"But if he is compromised…"

"Lady," Raph interrupted her, "we got it. We trust Donnie." His eyes, blazing, would have bored holes into her if she were less than she was. Monique simply shrugged.

"It is a foolish, if noble course of action. I would urge you to separate your personal feelings and consider things from a more realistic angle, but I can see it would be a waste of time. However, I will not permit your brother to endanger my team."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised you'd say that," Mikey said softly.

"If he is a threat, I will deal with it as I see fit."

"You do that and you're gonna have to deal with a lot more than that!" Raphael actually drew his weapons, handling them menacingly.

"Stand down," their leader ordered. He took a breath and bowed slightly to Monique. "We won't endanger you. If something happens, we'll probably come to you for help. But we won't let you hurt our brother, no matter what. If it comes to it, do what you have to, but so will we."

"Agreed." Monique turned on her heel without a backward glance and moved to the fire escape on the side of the building, her steps soft as a cat's though not as silent as the turtles themselves. It was the best she could expect, dealing with the turtles as they were. They could not, would not see the situation objectively – they were too close to it emotionally. And if she permitted herself, a part of her agreed with them. But her training and experience told her something else.

"May it not come to this," she said within her own mind. "For if it does, I would very much regret having to kill Donatello and die at his family's hands for doing what I must to protect my own…family."

In thought, but not lost, for being lost led one to carelessness, she returned to the lab.


	16. Seeds of Disquiet

Still don't own 'em. Just getting them into hotter and hotter water...

Enjoy!

* * *

"All right, brainiac. What gives?"

Donatello wasn't completely surprised at the question growled from the shadows, and he credited his years of training that he didn't startle easily. Smoothly turning from where he had just landed on a rooftop, he looked at his brother evenly. Raphael had never learned to slide out of the shadows as if they were water rolling off him – instead, he always stalked out of darkness like a predator. But Don was not worried by it; he knew Raph well enough, knew what he read in the crossed arms and raised eye-ridge was not anger, but what passed for concern.

"What are you talking about?"

"You been quiet lately, not sayin' much in the lair, but heading out here," and Raph gestured to the sight of Staten Island across the water behind him, "just about every night. You gonna tell us what's goin' on, or I gotta ask your friends?"

"I'm just doing some experiments," Don replied, feeling the nerves in his stomach constrict a little. Raph wasn't going to buy it. He didn't.

"Try again."

"Raph…" the purple-clad turtle was half-exasperated, half-pleading. "It's not a big deal."

"Then there's no problem telling me about it." Raph's eyes narrowed. Evasion was one of his brother's favorite tactics to avoid explaining the unpleasant, and he was not going to permit it. If Leo wasn't going to ask the questions, if Mikey was too worried to ask, he was going to get the answers himself. And since the brothers had agreed just two days prior that Don was probably safe with just one watcher instead of all three, he had the perfect opportunity.

"I…" Donnie began.

"Bro, you're not walking off this roof until you come clean. We can do this the easy way or the fun way. And I know which you'd prefer." He grinned wickedly.

"It might be nothing," he tried one last time. Then, seeing Raph's continued stubbornness, he sighed. "Look, it's just that we don't really know what went on with Bishop when he had me, and Nick and the others are trying to help me figure out if anything happened that I should know about."

"Like if you got exposed to more outbreak crap or something?" Raphael asked.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"So, they find anything?"

The long time it took Donatello to answer told Raph all he needed to know. If Leo had been here, he'd have put a hand on his brother's shoulder, offered comfort and support and that strength of certainty he was so good at. Raph wasn't Leo. He strode forward and grabbed Donnie by the elbow, shaking him slightly.

"Yeah, they did," he mumbled, his head down. Raph shook him again before he continued. "There's scarring on my neurocranium that goes way deeper than the blow to the head that I took, and from the scans they were able to take, there's scar tissue underneath as well."

"Neurocranium…wait, you're sayin' Bishop did something to your brain?"

"Looks like it."

The slow, soft way Donatello spoke worried Raph a lot more than what he had said. He didn't know what the implications were, but the sheer fact that somebody had literally messed with his brother's head was bad enough. The fact that it obviously had Don freaked near to losing it before his eyes was still worse.

"Can you tell what he did?" Raph pressed.

"Not yet. Something surgical, probably. There's no trace of metallic components or anything, so we don't think he put anything in there, but it's hard to be sure. And there's no telling if…"

"If what?" Now Raph did take a page from Leo's book and put a hand on Don's shoulder comfortingly.

"If he took something from me."

Don closed his eyes. He knew he was lucky to be alive, to have a brain at all, but not knowing what Bishop had done, whether he had reconnected bits of his brain wrong or taken whole sections out or even put in some kind of bio-ware programming – each possibility was worse than the last. There was truly no way to know what it meant unless HEAT opened up his skull again and poked around. And none of them were qualified to do that, they all knew it. The truth was, there might be no way to be certain, probably until it was too late, what kind of damage Bishop had done this time.

"Donnie," Raph breathed, feeling like the floor had dropped out from under him. He'd known his brother was keeping secrets, was burdened by something, but he hadn't considered anything like this. Don valued his brain more than anything – how must it hurt to know something had been done to it and he couldn't even tell what?

"So that's what I've been doing," the purple-clad turtle finished, the defeat ringing in his voice. "Trying to find non-invasive ways to test for whatever Bishop did. It doesn't look like I've lost any cognitive function, and I don't have any holes in my memory that we've identified yet, which is good. But there's a lot we can't test for at this level, so…"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Raph's voice was soft, coaxing, none of the angry brother left in him. "You could've said something. We can't help, but we'd have been, you know, there."

"I know. And you're here anyway, even without knowing. I just couldn't figure out how to tell you." Donatello finally met Raphael's eyes again, and though he knew worry and fear was written over his whole face, there was honesty in his answer. He did know he could have spoken to his family, shared the worry and fear, and they would have supported him. But he also didn't want them to worry, to doubt him. He did know that his clan valued him for more than his intelligence and engineering skills, that they wanted him for his own sake, but there was a twinge of insecurity nonetheless. His mind was what he could contribute above being a dutiful ninja son – he never wanted his family to doubt what he could or would do for them. And besides, his family had only just come to terms with his recovery from the outbreak virus, twice. What more could he ask them to endure?

The pair stood in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought. Between trying not to worry and approach his situation scientifically, Don's thoughts raced along every track that didn't end in fear. And beside him, Raphael struggled. Struggled to figure out how to offer comfort for something he couldn't fight, couldn't eliminate, couldn't even really help with at all. Struggled to contain the boiling rage that Bishop had once again taken something precious, something needed, something important from his clan. Struggled to know what to say that might soothe the ripples he could see in Donnie's usual cheerful, the-sky-isn't-even-the-limit demeanor. Finally he spoke.

"So, you want me not to tell the others?"

Don looked up in surprise, seeing Raph nod seriously. "You'd do that?"

"Sure. Keepin' secrets from Leo is what I do anyway, just to annoy him, and telling Mikey anything is like inviting him to mess with it, so I'm pretty used to it. And Master Splinter won't ask me what's bugging you anyway – he'll ask you himself. So it's not all that hard."

"Actually, sensei did ask me what's happening," he confessed. "I told him something vague, not untrue, just not…the whole story. I don't want him to worry until I know the real extent of the damage."

"Gotcha. Then I won't say nothing. But shell, Donnie, if there's something I can do, I wanna do it!" a little of Raph's anger leaked through. Actually, it was a comfort to them both, a little more normalcy.

"Well, there is something, just in case." Raphael perked up, then saw how solemn his brother's face was and a sinking feeling of dread settled somewhere under his plastron. Don took a breath. "If something goes wrong, if something happens, call HEAT. I know Leatherhead's good, and we all trust him, but he just can't do what they can. They've had years of time to get really familiar with mutations, and they have better resources than we do. Besides, since Bishop's in this one, I'm not sure LH can keep his composure, and I don't want to upset him."

"Yeah, we don't need him wigging out on us, that's for sure," the red-banded turtle smiled wanly.

"Exactly. So, I guess…if something happens, make sure you call HEAT, okay? They can do a lot of what I can, so if you needed more long-term help…"

"No way."

Don looked up, not totally surprised to see the fiery denial in his brother's eyes. He opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't end in a fight.

"That's right, don't even try," Raph growled. "We ain't gonna need any long-term help from anybody but you, Donnie. I'll remember what you said, and if something happens I'll take care of it, but it ain't anybody but you that's got our shells and it ain't anybody but you going to take care of us. Those guys," and he jerked his thumb back towards Staten Island, "they might be brainy and all, but you are our brainiac. We ain't trading you for anything. So don't even think about it."

Donatello wanted to make so many points – about how he might not always be there and the family needed a back-up, about how what Bishop had done could impact his long-term mental faculties, about how he really wasn't sure he was the genius everybody thought he was – but the angry expression that met him stopped him cold. Raphael's whole body was speaking loud and clear, and what it mostly said was, "take that idea and shove it up your shell." He felt a streak of warmth and relief shoot through him. His brother cared about him so much that he simply could not, would not accept anything else. Even if it was a little silly, even if it was not the most strategic perspective, it comforted Donnie to be so regarded, so fiercely needed.

Wordlessly, Don nodded, his throat unexpectedly tight. Whatever Raph saw in his face must have satisfied him, as he nodded in return and smiled the shark smile that meant victory. Without looking back, the brothers began to bound for home, matching pace, working fluidly without words or signals, knowing, just knowing, each other's every footfall, every breath. And as they ran, as they ducked in shadows or sped through dim light, Donatello felt his burden and his fears ease a little. Whatever happened, whatever came, he wasn't alone. He was still as close to his family as any individual could be, and with them at his back, he could face anything.

-==OOO==-

Elsie smiled wryly at the figure before her. Nick sat at his desk, slumped in his chair, completely asleep. Obviously she was not the first to have come upon him, as he was covered in layers and layers of printouts, looking to all the world like a person who had been tarred and feathered with computer paper. The smiley face on the post-it stuck to his forehead was the only signature Elsie needed to identify Randy as the culprit.

"At least he has the sense to use old stuff and draft copies instead of real documents," she shook her head. "Otherwise, when Nick wakes up we might've needed a new hacker."

Moving quietly, the paleontologist peeked at what her friend was working on by leaning over his shoulder; she was unsurprised to find the computer monitors filled with images and test results from the most recent battery Donatello had undergone. She frowned. The deeper they dug into what might have happened to Don while he was in Bishop's lab, the more worrying the results appeared. At first, they had detected no unusual chemicals or changes to his body, but after examining the blow to his head in greater detail, there was no denying something serious had been done to his cranium. Bishop had cut into the turtle's brain, but what he had done there was still anybody's guess.

"Still sleeping?" Mendel asked, coming up the stairs from below. Elsie turned and nodded, gesturing him to silence. Mendel shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry," he whispered. "About time he got some rest, though."

"You're telling me," Elsie replied softly, moving away from Nick to keep from waking him. "Ever since the MRI came back of Don's head, he hasn't stopped working."

"Neither have you," Dr Craven replied. "Neither have I. The only person getting any normal amount of sleep is Monique."

"What about Randy?"

"When does Randy ever get a normal amount of sleep? I guess you could say he's getting a normal amount of slacking done," Mendel rolled his eyes. "But you should probably rest, too, you know."

"It's mid-afternoon!" Elsie protested. "I don't need a nap."

"We all need a nap," the roboticist countered calmly. "Look, I'm as worried about Don as you are. And I feel just as guilty," he met her eyes firmly, "but I can't help him if I'm tired all the time. Right now, the best thing we can do for him is be at our best. You know he won't be back until dark anyway, if he comes at all tonight. Take the chance to recharge, okay?"

"When did you get so mother-hen-ish?" Elsie raised an eyebrow. Mendel shrugged. There wasn't much he would say to explain it – it was too weird to describe. HEAT had been drawn closer after Nick's abduction and the events that had bound him to Godzilla. They'd had to trust each other as never before, work together on things science couldn't explain or predict, come together to care for one of their own. All five of them had their own lives, yes, but now more than ever their lives were intertwined. And Don was one more who, somehow, had managed to elicit similar feelings of protectiveness and trust. Mendel wasn't the best with expressing that sort of thing, but even he knew it was true.

"Just nap in the back, okay? I'm heading there myself," Dr Craven said finally.

"With an invitation like that, how can I resist?" Elsie teased. But she punched his arm fondly anyway. "And thanks."

"Not a problem. Just don't tell Randy I'm going soft, okay? Not worth the trouble."

"You got it."

-==OOO==-

Hours later, Nick shook himself out of the paper mountain that enfolded him, plucking the post-it from his forehead with a growl. How long had he been sleeping anyway? A glance at the window still showed daylight, so at least he hadn't lost his whole night to work. Stretching the kink in his neck from napping in the chair, Nick set about picking up the mess someone else had made around him, dumping fistfuls of paper in the recycling bin and idly wondering what payback Randy deserved in response.

A nudge at his mind caught him, and he paused.

"What's up, big guy?" Nick asked aloud. He didn't really need to talk to Godzilla verbally, but it was sometimes easiest for him to concentrate that way, especially when he wasn't awake yet and Godzilla was far away.

A sense of worry washed back to him, and the feel of a headache.

"No, I'm okay. A lot to do, but nothing wrong. I think your headache is just yours this time, though I can feel it," he gingerly touched the place above the ear where he could feel a throbbing pain that was literally all in his head without being physically in his head.

Confusion.

"I know, Godzilla. I'm not sure why you're getting these headaches. Seems like everybody's got them: you, me, Don. Even Elsie and Mendel are popping pain-killers these days. Probably just stress for us. For you, the only thing I can think of is some kind of reaction to all the stuff in your system from the island. Do you want me to try to do something about it?"

A different kind of confusion swirled, and Nick understood that Godzilla wasn't really able to answer that question. After all, it was a little outside their usual "conversation" subjects, and Godzilla didn't have a whole lot of context to comprehend what he was offering. Science and mutant cognition didn't seem to mix.

"You're a little big for over-the-counter pills," Nick smiled, "but I think we've got at least a basic idea of what we can give you that won't hurt you. Head over here tonight and I'll try to make the pain go away.'

Understanding, agreement, and gratitude, and then sudden distraction as something edible caught Godzilla's sense of smell, and Nick withdrew from the communication while his charge dove into a more interesting pursuit. He looked out the window again at the golden evidence of approaching sunset, a calm settling over him. When had he become so used to conversing with Godzilla this way? When had the presence of the giant mutant in the back of his mind ceased being a torment and became instead almost comforting? Godzilla's thoughts and feelings could still be overwhelming and alien, could still overpower his own independence, but recently, more and more, Godzilla was acting more like a comfortable shadow than an invader. Even in moments of rage, the enormous creature was better able to maintain the boundaries between them. And in moments of quiet, Nick appreciated knowing he was never, ever alone, even within himself.

"Never thought I'd say this, Godzilla, but you know? I'm pretty glad you're in here, headaches notwithstanding," Nick tapped his head. "I'm better able to take care of you, and it really does seem to help you deal with the world. The in-flight movie's a little strange sometimes, but I think the ride is worth it anyway."

With that, the doctor finished cleaning up the paper-blanket mess and set about mixing up some giant-sized headache medicine before returning to the troubling matter of Donatello's brain.

-==OOO==-

Godzilla dove for the school of fish that eluded him, striking savagely in their midst and coming away with a mouthful. His parent's agitation was clear, though it was not distress or fear or anger, but something else, shaded with a feeling Godzilla recognized as affection. Whatever was happening, it had been happening since the island where he had been sick, and it was starting to irritate the lizard as an itchy wound would.

But more than that, Godzilla remained distracted by a dull ache in his head that had begun not long after returning to his territory from the island, and only got worse. He had dug at his own scales somewhat to locate whatever might be hurting, but he could not find anything. He sensed his parent was also suffering a similar pain sometimes, which did not help either of their moods.

The school swerved to one side, the fish attempting to flee their predator. Godzilla flicked a tail and pursued them angrily. Eating did not seem to relieve the pain, but it was better than not eating, and it gave him something to fight and kill to react against what hurt. At least his parent knew of his pain – if it could be fixed, Nick would fix it. Until then, there was only the hunt.

-==OOO==-

Don had been in his room too long, Michelangelo decided. He'd been working for days, not sleeping as much as his family wanted, and he'd been in that testy I'm-a-genius-and-suffering-from-crabby-times mood, causing the rest of the lair's inhabitants to practically walk on eggshells to keep from irritating him further. Creeping close to the half-open door of the off-limits lab, the orange-banded turtle suppressed a grin. He'd been forbidden entry to Don's workroom for years, ever since that unfortunate incident with the strawberry ice cream, the tango competition, and a bank of hard-drives. But he entered it occasionally anyway, usually with permission, but not always. Today was definitely the latter.

"Oh, Donnie!" he called in a cheerful, sing-song voice. "Time to come out and play!"

Peering into the room, which Don kept deliberately dim when working on his computers, but unnaturally bright when dealing with mechanics or chemicals, it took Mikey a moment to spot his brother in the shadows. Illuminated by a set of salvaged monitors, the brainy turtle was slumped in his computer chair, apparently unresponsive. The youngest ninja grinned – if Donnie was asleep, it was a brother's duty to wake him!

Michelangelo moved stealthily through the room, avoiding wires, bits of who-knew-what, and half-completed projects, until he was within a pace of Donatello's chair. He gathered himself for an epic surprising pounce, rocking to his toes for maximum height and shock value.

"Go away, Mikey."

"Aw, dude, you knew I was there?" the deflated turtle whined.

"Yeah. Now get out of here." Don's voice was oddly cold, laced with an undercurrent Michelangelo couldn't identify. In fact, Don hadn't even turned around. Sure he'd been in a funk, but this was uncommon even for stressy-Don. This necessitated some investigation.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Nothing. Boring stuff. Full of science and math."

Mikey tipped his head a little, brow furrowing. Though Donatello's response had been sort of a joke, well, first of all, it wasn't very funny. Second of all, it was probably supposed to indicate that he didn't really care what Don was doing, which was totally untrue. Just because he didn't always understand his genius brother didn't mean he wasn't interested! It usually meant he was only interested for five minutes, but hey, that was something! But most importantly, the way Don's voice had almost no inflection to it, the way he still wasn't turning around, the way he hadn't even yet told Mikey not to touch anything – something was really wrong.

"Dude, what's up?" he switched tactics, from cheerful-but-annoying-baby-brother to pouting-but-friendly-sympathetic-brother.

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it, Mikey."

"Come on, bro! I even promise to listen if the words get too big!" he grinned.

"Just leave me alone!" All at once, Don whirled in the chair, and Michelangelo was surprised to see his brother's eyes burning somehow, like when he forgot to sleep for a week and couldn't see straight. They looked red and fierce. With one move, Donatello locked his computer down, picked up a bag next to the desk, and pushed past the orange-clad turtle.

"Hey, dude, chill!" Mikey tried to follow him.

"Butt out," he snapped, yanking his door all the way open and pushing through it as though he were walking through a torrent of water. While Michelangelo followed in now very-concerned confusion, Don suddenly turned so they were nearly beak-to-beak. "And this is MY room, Mikey. Don't ever enter my room without my permission again," he growled. There was a fire in his expression that made the youngest turtle swallow reflexively and take a step back. This kind of rage was usually unique to Raphael. Had Donnie been taking lessons or what?

"Don?" Leo asked, getting up from his seat on a chair where he'd been reading.

"I mean it. Stay out of my stuff or else," the purple-banded turtle threatened angrily, pinning Michelangelo with his glare. Ignoring Leo completely, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit.

"Where are you going?" Leonardo demanded. Donatello didn't so much as pause.

"Out. And do me a favor and don't follow me this time. And stay out of my space."

With that, the gentlest turtle slammed the door behind him, leaving two brothers slack-jawed as they stared after him.

"Um, what was that?" Michelangelo asked after a moment of silence.

"I have no idea," the blue-clad turtle said, eyes narrowing. "But if I had to guess, I'd say something happened."

-==OOO==-

"Well, wasn't that cute?" Raph smirked. Don didn't stop walking, forcing his third brother to stride alongside to keep up his commentary. "Usually it's me tellin' off Mike and Leo. Kind of nice to see somebody else give it a shot for once."

"Raph, get lost."

"Oh, I don't think so. I kept your secret, but that means I ain't lettin' ya wander off like this without knowing why. So spill. What happened?" Under the coolness of his façade, Raphael felt a prickle run down his spine. What could have happened that would anger the usually calm Donnie so much?

"None of your business."

"Yeah, it is." Raph grabbed Don's arm and gave it a yank. "We've been through this. Now tell me before I have to beat it out of you."

"You really wanna know?" Donatello stopped and faced his brother, a snarl spreading across his usually good-natured expression. "Fine! Nick just emailed me. Something came up on one of the deep scans we did of my brain the other day. There's something there, something that wasn't there right after Bishop, something that wasn't there last week. Okay?"

"What, like a tumor?" Raphael was aghast. No, it couldn't be.

"Probably. So now I'm going to go see what it is before it kills me. You happy now?"

Shaking, Donatello broke into a sprint and disappeared into the shadows of the sewer. Behind him, Raph stood still, somehow rooted to the ground. Slowly, his hands formed into fists and he started to shake too, with rage.

"No, I ain't happy, Donnie," he said darkly even though his brother was long gone, "but I ain't gonna sit here doin' nothing, either. I can't help with the science, but I can definitely help with the payback."

And Raph stalked off in the other direction, one thought in his mind, one gentle, and deeply frightened face before his eyes. Don was angry, sure, but mostly he was afraid and lost, and all of that, the turtle was sure, because of one good-for-nothing government agent. There was only one thing to do, one thing he could do.

Revenge.


	17. HotHeaded Antics

Sorry for the hiatus – suffered a near-catastrophic computer death. But all is well now!

Still don't own the TMNT or Godzilla or HEAT or...yeah. This is just in homage to the awesomeness that is.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Hold still, Don," Elsie said gently, putting a hand on his cold shoulder. "This will hurt, but we've done what we can to numb the site."

"I know," he replied tightly. It was ironic, Donatello considered, that here he was, back on HEAT's table in the lab, and strapped down. But this time it was by his own volition. He had given them permission to experiment, and to do that, they couldn't be worried about his ninja reflexes. Or his fear.

"Here we go," Nick said softly. As firmly and smoothly as possible, he inserted the trephine into his friend's skull, navigating as carefully as he could. They'd marked the spot on the back of Don's head, and he had also marked on the implement exactly how deep to penetrate. It was critical beyond critical to get a sample of the rapidly-expanding material in Donatello's cranium so they knew what they were dealing with, before it was too late. Already the thing had more than quadrupled in size from their first MRI. There was no time to lose.

As the implement passed through his skin, Don sucked in air sharply with pain, but he held still. As she had once before, Elsie took his hand, holding it in her own as he clenched his fist tightly. His eyes, that she knew could be so gentle and intelligent, were bright with pain and fear from under the shadows. From the way his body twitched, she could tell every instinct was driving him to push himself up from the table. But he had to lie still, face-down, until they'd finished. That was why Don himself had insisted on the restraints.

"Just another second," Nick breathed, willing himself to be calm. Don needed the best medical care in the city – that he had to make do with HEAT was bad enough. He needed Nick at his best.

"Are you ready with the antiseptic?" Elsie called over her shoulder to Mendel. The blond scientist nodded mutely, trying hard not to look at the scarily-big needle in Donatello's head. It made him woozy.

"There! We're done! Mendel!" Nick called, but he was already on his way. While Elsie took the sample straight to the lab for preservation and study, Dr Craven served as Nick's nurse to patch up the hole they'd made in the turtle's head.

"Donnie? Stay with us," Craven said, noticing the patient starting to fade as the tension in his muscles seemed to melt. "Don!"

"Allow me." Monique stepped up from out of nowhere and expertly struck the turtle's forearm, much as a nun would crack the knuckles of a pupil. At once, Donatello's eyes opened and cleared, though he did not raise his head; he was, after all, still being patched up.

"How did you do that?" Randy asked from his perch across the room.

"I surmised that all the turtles would be trained to respond to their sensei in a similar manner if they were lax in their training or meditation," she replied evenly.

"Yeah," Donatello's voice was a little breathy, but steady. "Master Splinter usually bops us in the head if we're kneeling, on the arm if we're training. And the head…maybe not such a good idea right now."

"Indeed," Monique gave the turtle one of her rare encouraging smiles. "Thank you for not passing out. It would have been inconvenient to revive you."

"You're welcome, I guess."

"You should probably lie there a while longer," Elsie reappeared at his side, her eyes wide with concern. "We can start the testing while you recover."

At that moment, however, a familiar ringtone sounded, and Don attempted to grab his phone from his belt. However, his wrists were still restrained. Randy jumped up and grabbed the Shell Cell for him.

"Donatello's Pizza Service, Randy the Man speaking. Would you like to try our specials?"

"Randy!" Mendel sighed. The hacker grinned, then listened intently for a few moments. Slightly more soberly, he held out the phone for the turtle.

"Leo? What's…?" Don was visibly trying to make his voice sound normal, and from over the phone, it was probably successful. "He did WHAT? Okay, stay there. I'm on my way!" The phone clicked off and Randy closed it.

"What's happening?" Monique demanded.

"Looks like Raph wandered off. And he took one of the breathers."

"Which means what exactly?" Nick wanted to know.

"That he's probably going down to Bishop's hideout at the bottom of the river. By himself. That shell-for-brains," he grimaced. "Let me up. I've got to get to them to help."

"Um, you just had brain surgery," Randy pointed out. "I don't think a fight is in the doctor's prescription."

"I know," the turtle sighed, "but my family needs me. We'd have no shot against Bishop without some technological edge, which is me."

"Let him up," Nick ordered, an odd look in his face. "It's his decision."

"I'll start analyzing this," Elsie pointed back to her station. Randy and Monique each took a wrist and unfastened the turtle, while Nick ran around to his feet. Craven gathered Don's bag and brought it to him. The turtle sat up quickly, swinging his feet to the ground. He was up and a few steps away when he began to sway.

"Don!"

Nick dove forward, catching the turtle's shoulders as his knees buckled and they both went to the floor. Don's skin was clammy, and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"He's out cold," Nick reported. "And the stitches aren't holding," he added when he saw a trickle of blood leaking down the turtle's neck. "We'll have to use regular bandages until we get something stronger to close up the incision."

"You're pretty chill, jefe," Randy commented.

"I knew this would happen," he replied. "Mutant ninja or not, there was too much invasion into the cranium, and too much local anesthetic. It was inevitable, really. He probably knew as much, but he had to try anyway."

"But his family needs him, he told us that. What do we do?" Mendel asked.

"It is simple." Monique strode forward, picking up the Shell Cell. "Donatello will remain here and you will care for him as is needed. I will take his place in assisting his brothers."

"You can't. You don't even know how to find them," Elsie argued.

"I have this." She held up the phone.

"Fine, but as soon as we get Don settled, I'm going with you," Nick said. "Elsie, Craven, you two work on analyzing that sample. Randy, you take care of Donnie." The room erupted in dissent, but he waved a hand at the objections. "If we're underwater, there's one trump card I can bring to the fight if we need it, but only if I'm there. We'll be fine."

It took three of them to get Donatello back on the table, face-up this time, and another five minutes for Nick to call Leonardo and talk him into the plan, but then all was ready. Monique gathered a few of her slightly-less-lethal weapons and one of her bags of secret gear that always seemed helpful, nodding sharply at the turtle's prone form.

"Do not allow him to be concerned when he wakes," she ordered Randy. "We will serve his family with honor."

"Just take care, you guys," Elsie called, bandaging the head-wound they'd created so recently. Nick grinned at her with the sort of smile that usually meant he was having way too much fun getting himself in over his head. There was an echo of Godzilla in the expression somehow, of the mutant's fierce strength and battle-readiness. On anybody else, it would be a little worrying, but with Nick, it was reassuring. "Come back safe," she added.

"We will."

-==OOO==-

"Hey Leo?" Mikey asked, shifting his perch slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Did they say why Don isn't coming?"

"No, they didn't." Leonardo fought the urge to fidget. What more could go wrong? First Don had stormed off so uncharacteristically angry, then Raphael had apparently taken it into his head to launch a private war against Bishop, and now Don was "occupied" and couldn't help his brothers bail Raph out from whatever trouble he was in. That was the word Nick had used, "occupied." That was less than helpful for sure.

"What do you think is going on?" Michelangelo wanted to know. The tone of his voice was subdued still – he still hadn't quite regained his usual cheerfulness after Don's explosion in the lair.

"I don't know," the leader of the turtles said, sounding more like Raphael than he would have guessed, "but when we get Raph back, you better believe I'm going to find out."

Two human shapes appeared on the dock below from a small boat, and without so much as a gesture, Leo and Mikey simultaneously jumped from their rooftop hiding place, using a convenient stack of crates to make their way to the ground. One of the humans swung around a moment later, gun drawn, but lowered the firearm as the turtles stepped into the dim light of the area.

"You are here. Very well. Where is your brother?" Monique went straight to business, holstering the sidearm.

"Underwater. His tracker shows he's been moving around a little, but he's definitely in Bishop's lair down there," Leo answered.

"So what's the plan?" Nick wanted to know.

"We sneak in, grab Raph, pound some sense into him, and get out of there."

"Straightforward, stealthy, optimistic, and with a dose of brotherly discipline. Standard Leo plan. I'm in!" Michelangelo shrugged.

"Do you really think they don't know he's there already?" the Frenchwoman asked.

"They probably know he's there. I'm just hoping he's made enough noise that they won't notice us join the party," Leonardo returned. "We know the layout, and so does Raph. If he put any thought into this, which I doubt, he'll have stuck to the outer areas where escape is easiest."

"Every moment we waste we risk your brother's life. Let's move," Monique stated.

"Just one question," Mikey said. "How are you two getting there? We've got these, but they're not really shaped for non-turtle heads," and he held up the breathers.

"Oh, we came prepared," Nick replied, holding up a mask of his own. "And if we get into real trouble, we'll call for backup. Big, mutant, friendly backup." He smiled.

"All right. But not unless I give you the word," Leonardo said. "It's not that we don't trust you, or Godzilla, but that's my brother down there. Let's get going, and hopefully we won't need your backup at all."

As the four jumped into the boat HEAT had brought, its near-silent motor carrying it as quietly across the shadows as it could, Leonardo looked at the humans. Monique was totally closed, focused on the mission, with not so much as a crack in her exterior armor to betray anything. But Nick was deep in thought, his brow furrowed.

"Leonardo," Nick said after a long silence, "this isn't the time, but when we're done here, I think there's something you should know."

"I know there is," the blue-clad turtle tried to keep any impatience out of his voice. "But one brother at a time. When we get Raph, then you are going to tell me what's up with Don."

Monique and Nick exchanged a look, but before either could speak, a wave erupted in front of the boat, and it was only Nick's practice steering various watercraft in difficult conditions that kept them from capsizing.

"That looks like an explosion from under the water!" Mikey pointed out.

The four gave that idea just one moment of thought before all of them donned their breathing masks and dove. Apparently, they had arrived just in time.

-==OOO==-

Monique had infiltrated many places in her years of service, from well-guarded state institutions to the ferry-house that had become her current base of operations. She had traveled the world in the company of HEAT, dealing with all manner of mutations and monsters. And she had a unique amount of information on the activities of several major world governments, their secret projects, their unspoken pacts. She was generally a jaded person, no longer surprised when secret agencies had surprises in store for those foolish or desperate enough to trouble them.

But even she had never seen this.

"What agency has access to this sort of technology?" she asked, staring at a control panel that reminded her very much of the alien Tachyon race's stronghold on Monster Island.

Nick stared at the chamber, suppressing a shiver that came from more than the chill of the water that still clung to him. Finding the entrance Raphael had created and exploiting it had been easy, as well as following his movements. It seemed that Leonardo and Michelangelo had either a deeply instinctual knowledge of their brother and the plausible way he would behave, or some kind of extra-sensory awareness of each other, for they had unerringly followed an invisible trail without using any obvious technology. Until, that is, the trail become visible.

The dome-shaped room was large, its walls orange and covered with what looked almost like organic formations that bore a resemblance to eggs or pods of some sort. These were mostly empty, but they had obviously once held something, as a few were still wet, their shells pulled open and a yellowish fluid still dripping onto the floor. A few agents, black-clad as those who had attacked the group before, had been piled in the middle of the space, unconscious and bruised. A door had been torn or kicked open, and the sounds of fighting wafted through the doorway to echo in the room.

"Bishop," Michelangelo answered Monique. "He has all the best toys!" And though it was a joke, there was a dark undercurrent in the words.

"This way. Come on!" Leonardo called, pushing forward. The orange-banded turtle was at his heels, leaving the humans to bring up the rear as they sprinted towards the battle. A few twisting corridors later and the group nearly collided with a dozen more agents, and one very angry turtle.

"Bring it on!" Raphael roared. "Gimme whatcha got! And when I'm done with you, you'll tell me where to find that no-good Bishop! He's gonna pay for what he did!"

"Raph!"

"Stay outta this, Leo," the red-clad turtle grunted without even looking up. "This is personal."

A few of the agents flooding into the hallway turned away from their original target, and the four new arrivals found themselves in the middle of a close-quarters fight. Monique and Nick held their position and managed to keep from being overwhelmed, while the other turtles made their way towards their wayward brother.

"Raph, what the shell are you thinking?" Leo exploded as he executed a kick that dropped two attackers. "Personal? If this is about Don, it's something for all of us!"

"Yeah! You can't hog all the bad guys!" Mikey put in. He clobbered one guy and jumped to intercept a few more who were heading for the HEAT contingent.

"You don't understand!"

"Explain later!" Monique shouted sharply over the din. "Escape now."

"Not without Bishop!" Raphael raged.

"What makes you think he's still here?" Leonardo demanded. "He's probably long gone. This whole thing is a trap!"

"Trap?" Mikey asked.

"If those are any indication," Nick called, using a break in his own fist-fight to point to some hefty wiring running along the ceiling to some ominous-looking black boxes at each junction in the hallway, "I'd say this whole place is set to blow!"

"We gotta get the shell out of here!" Mikey squeaked.

"Agreed. Raph! Retreat!" Leo shouted. But his brother seemed not to hear him, charging forward with abandon.

"You bring Bishop down here and you make him face me! See how easy it is to mess with my family with my sai up his-"

"Raphael!" Monique's voice cut through the noise. She executed a beautiful kick that threw three men to their knees and earned a cheer from Michelangelo. "I understand your rage. But you will not be able to help Donatello if you are killed!"

"Please, Raph," Leo said, cutting his way to his brother's side and putting a hand on his elbow, restraining a punch for someone who was already on their way to the floor. "Please. We've got to go."

Eyes of fury met Leo's calm ones, and to the blue-clad turtle's surprise, the sweat that dripped from Raphael's beak looked suspiciously like tear tracks and his eyes were bright and fierce. Whatever had set Raph off, it was no little thing. Raph's irate gaze burned, then widened almost imperceptibly and a bit of the fire cooled. Leo felt the shaking tension of untold anger lessen under his grip.

"All right. I'll pull back for now. But I'm gettin' my revenge, Leo, and you ain't stoppin' me next time!" The turtle returned his sais to their customary places on his belt and carelessly sent the agent approaching his other side into a wall. His stance was still belligerent and angry, but he had bowed to orders at last.

"This way, dudes!" Mikey called, signaling another tunnel almost forgotten off to one side. He cleared a few unfortunate individuals from the path, waving Nick and Monique in. The remaining two turtles met him and sprinted down the darkened hallway.

"Where does this lead?" Monique asked from up ahead.

"I dunno," the orange-banded turtle shrugged. "It was just the closest!"

The hallway turned and dipped several times until all five intruders were disoriented. The lights in this section were dimmer than the others, and sometimes there was more shadow than illumination as they careened through the base. After a few minutes of moving, Nick stopped and put up a hand.

"Hear that?"

"Hear what?" Raph grumbled.

"Nothing," Leonardo said, sheathing his katanas and listening closely. "Nobody following us. No alarms."

"Um…that's not good, is it?" Michelangelo gulped.

"Indeed it is not," Monique said, looking around sharply. "They have called a retreat. Which can only mean…"

"That they're preparing to blow this thing up," Nick finished.

"Shell!" Raphael punched a wall. Then he turned so he could see Leo and Mikey, keeping his face from the humans. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't…"

"Worry about it later," Leo ordered. "We're not sunk yet." He looked up at Nick and nodded, his expression serious. "Do it."

Nick closed his eyes. It was not hard to reach Godzilla – the lizard had been hovering on the edges of his mind since the first spike of adrenaline in the boat. From the beginning of the fight, Godzilla had wanted to tear the roof off the underwater stronghold and rescue his parent, but Nick had resisted. Among other things, he knew if Godzilla interfered, it would mean everyone without a breather on their hip, mainly Bishop's agents, would probably drown. And bad guys or no, Nick couldn't let Godzilla be responsible for that kind of murder.

But now he opened his mind to his charge, the anxious and protective presence nearly overwhelming in its intensity. With his many instances of practice, Nick pushed through the instincts to Godzilla's mind itself. From there, he was with Godzilla completely, seeing through his eyes, feeling through his senses. It was a conscious sharing they usually left only for those times Nick experienced riding the ocean currents, the joy of the speed and power of an enormous and scientifically improbable creature. But this time, it served a far more strategic purpose: it allowed them to combine Nick's planning and awareness with Godzilla's strength. As expected, the mutant was just outside the underwater complex, hovering. Together they watched little pods eject themselves from the domed construct, and even through the water they could smell humans inside.

Nick turned their attention back to the building, speaking directly to Godzilla now. "Okay, big guy. Come get us."

There was a rushing sensation, and Nick quickly separated himself. He opened his eyes even as his heartbeat sped up, the anger and possessiveness of Godzilla flowing through his blood. He nodded at the others and prepared to pull his own mask on.

"Shouldn't be long now."

Leonardo's face was a picture of confusion, and the turtle started to say something. Nick realized belatedly that only Donatello knew of his particular bond with Godzilla, and true to his word, hadn't told his brothers. But there was no time for him to explain. Scarcely a moment later, sounds of creaking and bending metal echoed down the passageways and the rush of water could be heard all around them.

"Um, not to jinx us or anything," Michelangelo began as he and the rest hurriedly donned their breathers, "but when you start breaking stuff that's gonna explode, or if you make sparks, doesn't it usually explode anyway?"

The other turtles and the two humans froze, their faces all falling as his words settled over them. None felt they could move or even breathe, until Monique raised one hand to her forehead in a pained gesture.

And everything vanished in sudden, smoky fire.


	18. Brainiac's Dilemma

I have to admit, I'm a little sorry for this one, guys. And it will get worse still. I'm sorry for that, too. But not quite sorry enough, I suppose!

Enjoy!

* * *

Raph opened his eyes, the ringing of a shockwave just receding in his ears. It was dark, wet, and he was crammed up against other turtles. He needed a moment to clear his head before he remembered Bishop's lab and the explosion that had been rigged to destroy them. He moved an arm to see where they were, only to find himself against unfamiliar scales. Raph blinked a few times, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

He was sitting on Mikey, who seemed to be shaking off the effects of the blast himself. To one side was Leo, eyes open and watching him for signs of consciousness. On the other side of Leo, Monique was crouching, her face mostly hidden in the shadows. Across the small, dark space, Nick was standing and holding onto something. It took another heartbeat for him to understand.

They were being carried in Godzilla's clawed hands.

Raphael jerked instinctively in terror, managing only to slowly topple off of Mikey and find himself pinned to the huge, dark fingers – or front toes, or claws, or whatever they were – as upward momentum held him down.

"It's okay," Leo's voice was both muffled and amplified by the water. "He's carrying us to safety."

"You sure about that?" Raph replied coarsely.

"Positive." The red-banded turtle could hardly believe that his older brother, the paranoid one who didn't trust anyone outside of their clan, and sometimes not everyone in the clan, was so calmly accepting help from a multi-story monster who could eat them for lunch as easily as looking at them. But then he saw Leo's eyes focus on the human scientist in their midst, and Raph looked, too. He couldn't quite read the look in Nick's eyes, but something about the geek was comforting.

"Anybody get the number on that truck?" Michelangelo asked dizzily, fighting the water's pull to stand and eventually giving up and staying where he was.

"Just another minute," Leonardo said. Monique nodded in agreement, but the humans couldn't be heard through their scuba-type masks without being connected to their radio frequency. Monique must have said something, because Nick turned to the turtles and gave them a thumbs-up before turning back to the massive scales and staring at them.

A moment later, light burst through the cracks between Godzilla's hands and the upward movement stopped. Nick took off his mask and smiled.

"It's okay. We're at the surface." As he spoke, the scales that held them moved suddenly, and after a disorienting moment, all five found themselves on top of a grey, lumpy, scaly surface.

"Dude!" Mikey cheered, pulling of his mask and jumping to his feet. "This is awesome!"

Raph realized they were sitting on Godzilla's massive square head, the mutant carrying them like some kind of demented, giant ferry. He pulled off his own breather and stood up, lending an arm to Leonardo who had ended up sprawled on his shell. The humans took off their own masks as well.

"Our boat got trashed," Nick continued calmly, "so we're getting a ride back to our home base."

"Thank you," Leonardo said heavily. He looked uncomfortably around at the enormous creature carrying him and continued, "I'm not sure how you got him to us so quickly, but we owe you and Godzilla our lives."

"We gave your brother our word we would serve you in his absence," Monique said suddenly, "so we could not do less."

"Yeah, and about Donnie…"

Nick turned from the blue-banded turtle long enough to flash a look at Monique. He knew she had skillfully redirected the conversation to save him from explaining his relationship with Godzilla. Unfortunately, the most efficient and effective way to do that brought up the other topic he didn't really want to discuss, but it was better than the alternative. He refocused on Leonardo.

"I'm not sure it's up to me to tell you anything Don hasn't told you himself," Nick hedged.

"You said he was 'occupied.' What does that mean, exactly? What is going on with you and Don?" Leo pressed, ignoring Nick's statement.

"Didn't you hear the man?" Raph asked, stepping between the scientist and his brother. "He ain't gonna squeal on Donnie. Don't yell at him for that."

"Okay, then I'm happy to yell at you. So what set you off so bad?" Leo returned. "You know something, Raph. I can tell. You're better at keeping secrets than Mikey," he jerked a thumb to the third turtle, who squawked indignantly, "but you aren't stupid. You wouldn't have pulled a stunt like this without a shell of a good reason."

"Yeah?" Raph crossed his arms. "If you're so smart, you tell me what I ain't tellin' you, then!"

"Raphael, if you know something, it's your duty to tell me about it!"

"No, it ain't!"

"Guys, chill!" Mikey said, trying to get between them. Which was difficult, given that the pair of turtles were now beak-to-beak, inches apart. "Why don't we just ask Don?"

"What?" Leo asked, surprised out of his fight enough to turn to his brother.

"Whatever he is doing at HEAT's place, he's there. And whatever happened earlier today, that was him too. And since Raph didn't pull his disappearing act until after Don left, that's probably part of it too. So if anybody knows what's going on, it's Donnie, and unlike SOME turtles we know, Don will probably just tell you the truth," he said reasonably.

"Mikey, I hate to admit it, but you're right," Leo sighed. He looked back to Raphael, who had not backed down or cooled down an inch. "Just tell me this much, Raph."

"What?"

"When I get answers from Don, and you know I will, am I going to be even more angry with you, or am I going to want to do exactly what you just did?" The sincerity, and the mix of worry and resignation in his voice caused even Raph to stand down.

"That depends," the red-banded turtle replied, not belligerently, but darkly.

"Depends on what?" Leo wanted to know. Raphael looked at his feet. Monique moved to face the turtle directly. Her eyes were hard, her voice absolutely businesslike in its precision.

"On how much he chooses to tell you."

-==OOO==-

"Hey there, D-man! How're you feeling?" Randy chirped.

Donatello blinked, sure for a moment that he was staring at Godzilla and Nick who were bizarrely the same person. But then his dizziness cleared and he could see Randy leaning over him, bright smile belied by his worried eyes.

"Kinda like I just had brain surgery," Don replied wryly. He put a cautious hand to his head, feeling the familiar skin-pull of stitches beneath a mountain of bandages. But the compress was dry to his fingers, which was good.

"Well, you did!"

"Oh, that was a brilliant deduction," came Mendel's voice from across the room. "Why don't you tell him he's a turtle while you're at it?"

"Why don't I tell you you're a geek?" the hacker returned.

"Guys! You're giving me a headache and I don't have a hole in my head. Knock it off!" Elsie admonished the pair. She rose from her workstation and joined Don at the table. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I passed out, didn't I?"

"Yup."

"Figures. Turtle luck working true to form," he muttered to himself. Then, remembering, he sat bolt-upright. "Raph! The guys! They needed my help!"

"Relax," Randy put a hand on his shoulder. "Monique and Nick got it handled. They already called in. Everybody's fine and they're on their way. Should be here soon."

"Nick and Monique?"

"I think," Elsie smiled broadly, "that Monique is really starting to like you guys. It's not every day she loads up that much firepower to bail somebody out."

"This is Monique we're talking about," Craven said without even looking up. "She always loads up the weaponry. But she doesn't usually bail anybody out, even us, if she can help it."

"I guess that makes me feel a little better," Don breathed in relief. His brothers were all right. That was all that mattered. "So, doctors, what's my prognosis?"

"Jefe said you heal fast, so the incision should close in a few days, and the dizziness will pass soon, I think," Randy said. Then he stopped. "Oh. You meant…yeah. Sorry."

"Don't sweat it." Donatello swung his legs over the table's edge, holding still when the world dipped and his stomach lurched. He had no desire to pass out again, so he took it a little more slowly. But there was only so much that could distract him from the awful feeling growing inside. Surely Elsie and Mendel would have something by now?

"Maybe we should wait for your brothers to arrive before we tell you what we've got so far," Elsie said gently.

"No." Don's voice was cold and absolute. "Tell me before they get here."

"But…" Craven finally looked up from his own workbench and joined them. "I mean, they're your family. Wouldn't you rather they be here to help you with…?"

"No. Tell me now. Please," he was nearly pleading with them. Elsie and Mendel shared a look, and as one, sighed.

"All right. Well, there's something there. Something foreign, with a different genetic structure than your own. Completely different, so there's no way it's a tumor or anything like that." Elsie reached around behind her for a pad with some information printed on it. "But it's leeching off your blood and your body like a tumor. Or a parasite."

"But what is it?" Don felt his stomach constrict even more.

"Well…"

"Just tell me!" the turtle nearly exploded. "Please!"

"As far as we can tell," Craven said slowly but deliberately, "it's an embryo."

"Wait, did you just say 'embryo?' Like a baby?" Randy interrupted.

"Yes." Elsie met Don's eyes. "It's a living being, implanted in your brain and growing like an embryo in a female's womb."

"Bishop must have implanted it while I was unconscious," Don said, automatically piecing together certain facts. "But what is it?"

"It…appears to be a clone. Of Godzilla," Craven said. "And it's getting big fast."

"So you're telling me I've got a baby Godzilla in my brain? But I thought Godzilla came out of an egg, like all reptiles?" the turtle asked, his mind racing.

"It's not identical. Not an exact clone of Godzilla. It's been modified. There are traces of things in its DNA that are similar to the cure you helped us produce, and some things that would be human if they weren't mutated. It's some kind of hybrid." Elsie put down the pad and put a hand on Don's shoulder.

"So, what now?" Randy asked.

"Well, that's the problem. It's been implanted inside Don's head, right up against his brain. It can only grow so large before it starts to impair cognitive function. But we ran a few more tests and scans while you were out anyway and…" Mendel trailed off uncertainly. At a desperate look from the ninja, he swallowed heavily and continued, "Well, the thing is that it isn't completely isolated."

"What does that mean exactly?" Don wanted to know, a sinking feeling telling him he already knew.

"Just like when a mammal is pregnant and the female's body connects to the developing baby to pass along nutrients, there are some connections in your body that have been diverted to this embryo. But not just the ones that give it blood and other things it feeds off of. There are, well, some neural pathways that seem to be intertwined, too."

Elsie stepped up, the hesitation in her face completely gone. When she spoke it was clinical and precise, as if she were keeping herself from feeling the truth of her own words.

"Your brain has been hooked up to this thing, and with every bit that it grows, it connects itself more and more to your neural pathways. It's becoming a true parasite, and if it gets too much larger, it's going to do more than crowd your mind out of its physical space and cause neurological damage. It's also going to become part of your cognitive processes. It will influence your thoughts, and if it has any consciousness of its own, it will be aware of you, as you will be of it. It's a question of what happens first. If it gets big before it develops neurologically, it will crush your brain against your skull. If it gains any sort of awareness or cognitive function, it will be tapped into your mind directly."

There was a long silence with only the hum of computers and the occasional whir of lab equipment to break the eerie, dire tension.

"What can you do?" Randy asked at last, his mouth dry. He stole a glance at Donatello. The turtle was still sitting, his face locked and pale, his hands clenching the edge of the table so tightly he could see the metal beginning to warp very slightly. He could almost hear the turtle's heart hammering in his chest, and a vein in his neck was throbbing.

"Well, we can try to remove it surgically, but there's no guarantee." Elsie stopped as a lump in her throat caught her.

"No guarantee of what?" the hacker pressed. If Donatello wasn't going to ask, he sure would! But it was the genius turtle who turned to him with a haunted look in his eyes as he answered.

"No guarantee that I'll ever be able to think again."

-==OOO==-

When Godzilla dropped his inadvertent passengers at the HEAT dock, Leonardo made all possible speed into the building, Mikey on his heels and Raphael a little behind. He burst into the lab, shoulders set, determined to get answers. Striding forward confidently, he approached the turtle in the room who was sitting at a computer, his back to the door.

"Don! What the shell is going on? Where were you?" Leo spotted the new, and rather large bandage on his head. "And what happened? Did you get hurt?"

The air in the room was suddenly heavy. The blue-clad turtle broke his eye-contact with Donatello's shell long enough to analyze the remaining HEAT members present. Mendel was staring at his feet, his face more clouded than usual, looking anywhere but at another living being. Randy was pale and completely subdued. Elsie turned to meet his gaze, and the turtle was surprised to find that she was furious, her eyes shining unusually brightly.

"Nick," she called around the turtle to where Nick and Monique had answered. "You want to see this." There was something so somber and serious in her voice that Leo felt his resolve cracking. Nick slipped to one side and picked up the pad she slid across to the table.

"What? What is it?" Michelangelo asked. "What's going on?"

"Donnie," Raph said, his voice so soft and coaxing both his other brothers turned in surprise, "you don't have to…"

"Stop it!" The fourth turtle spun in his chair, jumping to his feet. He was pale, and obviously struggling to control his emotions. His eyes looked like harsh points of light burned into his mask. "You just…you don't…you don't understand," he finally forced out.

"But we want to understand, Don," Leo said, his voice shifting to gentle. "Tell us what's going on. Please."

"I…I can't. Explain it to them," he waved brusquely at Elsie. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out the door towards the dock.

"Don!" Mikey made to go after him, but Nick stepped in front.

"Give him some space. I'll talk to him."

"But," Leo began.

"No, Leo," Raph said sadly. "Let the doc talk to Don a while. We gotta hear this, all of it. We can't help him until we know how bad it is." The red-banded turtle looked at Elsie, and she was surprised that his face looked almost like he was drowning. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," she said, controlling her own emotions as three brothers crowded around her in terror for the fourth. "Just prepare yourselves, guys. Because it's at least as bad as you fear."

-==OOO==-

Don sat on the lower dock, dangling his legs in the water. He'd been avoiding his brothers for so long, and now he was doing it again. But he just couldn't bring himself to admit it. To say out loud what he knew and could prove and sketch on a graph or countless simulations. To say it to them. That would make it real, and though he knew scientifically that it was real anyway, something stubborn in his heart wanted to pretend just a little longer.

"I'm sorry," Nick's voice didn't surprise him, nor did it cause him to turn. "Don, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know. And it's not your fault," the turtle replied automatically.

"Actually, it sort of is," the scientist eased himself onto the dock beside the turtle. "It would never have happened if you hadn't had to go with Bishop. And you wouldn't have gone with Bishop if you hadn't been protecting my team."

"We can rehash this however you want," Don said sullenly, "but it's not your fault. What if I'd never gone out to the island at all? What if I'd waited for my brothers before going to check on Mendel and Elsie? What if I'd fought instead of giving up? It happened. You can't dwell on whose fault it is. It's mostly Bishop's fault anyway. Don't blame yourself."

"I'm sorry I didn't catch it sooner," Nick said after a moment. "From what Elsie's findings said, it's been growing for a while, but it was invisible to our tests until we knew what to look for. It's…it's pretty well tying itself into your nervous system now."

"I know. I saw the results, too."

"Don, if there's anything we can do, you know we'll help. All of us."

"You're probably going to have to operate," Donatello said, staring at the dirty water around his calves. "There's no other way that I can think of."

"Yeah, but…"

"There's no other way," the turtle repeated more forcefully. "It can't stay there. You know that."

"You're right," Nick said slowly, "but if anything goes wrong, you might, well. You know."

"Nick, what choice do we have?" Don kicked at the water, wishing there were something he could crush beneath his feet. "If you don't operate, it's going to grow until it destroys my brain one way or another. If you do operate, at least I stand a chance. Yeah, it might go wrong and I might lose my brain anyway, but we've got to try. I mean, what else is there?"

Nick put a hand on the turtle's shoulder, surprised that it was very cool to the touch in spite of the warm evening. But there was nothing he could say. Donatello was perfectly right. If they did nothing, he would certainly die. If they acted, he might still die, or suffer brain damage, but it was his only chance. Nick gulped, remembering when he'd thought he was losing his mind to Godzilla, how it had felt to know there was an invader inside the one thing he ever truly considered his own, and his heart ached for the mutant beside him.

A sudden crash startled both, their heads turning in unison towards the lab. Nick could guess what had happened – one of the others had just reacted to the news of their brother's prognosis. He rose from his seat and backed away a little.

"Don, I know this is enormous. But, if there's one thing I know, it's that hiding it from the people you are close to only makes it worse. Don't let this keep you from your family, okay? You need them more than ever now."

Donatello exhaled, but said nothing. He also didn't move from his place, so Nick took that as a good sign. He turned to walk along the dock to the other side of the lab, hearing the door behind him open. There was nothing Nick could do for his friend that his brothers couldn't do, except go back inside, sit down in the lab, and find a way to save a bright soul and a brilliant mind from what had been done.

-==OOO==-

"Hey."

"Hey." Don didn't look up at the familiar shapes that were near. He pulled one knee up and leaned his elbow on it, resting his chin on his arm. The others hesitated a moment, before there was a shuffling and Michelangelo was sitting on Don's left.

"Thanks for telling us," the orange-banded turtle said after a silence.

"He didn't," Leonardo automatically corrected. "Dr Chapman did."

"Leo, leave off," Raphael scowled. "He let us know. Isn't that enough?"

"I guess so. I just…" Leo sighed and sat down at Don's other side. "I just feel so helpless, Donnie." His voice was small. "I don't know what to do."

"Me too," Don said quietly.

"How long have you known there was something in your head?" Mikey asked, not accusingly, but sadly.

"Just tonight. But we've been testing for what Bishop might have done since I first came to visit HEAT afterwards. It's only been a week or so since we realized he'd penetrated my neurocranium, and just today that they took a sample to test." For an instant, the genius's voice sounded like its usual self. Then he took a shaky breath. "So it's not much newer to you than it is to me."

"That's what you were doing when you couldn't come to get Raph," Leo nodded. The eldest turtle turned back to where the remaining brother still stood. "I guess I do owe you an apology. You knew, and you went after Bishop for revenge."

"I didn't know all this," Raph shook his head. "Just that he put somethin' in Don's head. He told me after storming out of the lair."

"Still, that's a pretty good reason to go after Bishop. I mean, it isn't, but I understand it. I asked you if I'd be mad at you or Bishop when I found out the truth. I guess I'm not mad at you."

Leonardo turned back to the water. What he'd said was something of an understatement. When the final results had been so carefully explained by Dr Chapman, when there was no denying the danger to his brother, the damage done by a sworn enemy, he'd lost his inner balance for a moment. Leo had whipped out a katana and flung it as hard as he could against the wall, embedding it so deeply it had taken a strong two-handed yank to pull it free. But he couldn't help it. This was a nightmare, his worst nightmare. His brother had been hurt, again, and there was nothing, nothing he could do to make it right.

"Donnie?" Michelangelo asked, breaking into the quiet. "What can we do now? Do you want anything?"

Donatello looked up into the worried face of his youngest brother. The cheerful bounce that seemed permanently glued to Mikey's eyes was totally absent, and he looked forlorn, lost. Don tried to smile, but from the answering widening of eyes, he apparently only managed to make his expression worse.

"I don't know, Mike. I'm not sure what to do yet. This is worse than the outbreak virus. That did take my mind, but it happened before I knew what was going on. Now that I know why I've got headaches, now I can see what's already happening. I can feel it hovering at the edges, like fog creeping over me. I…I can feel myself starting to slip." Don closed his eyes and buried his face in his arm.

"Bro," Raph's voice was gentle again, and he knelt to put a hand on his shoulder, "you're not gonna get lost again. We'll fix this. I swear, we will. Those guys said they'd try to help you."

"I know," came the muffled reply, "but none of them, no one on earth, is really qualified to do the kind of brain surgery this requires. Even Bishop can't undo this one for us."

"If it were one of us, Donnie, what would you do?" Leo asked.

"I…I don't know. I'd probably try it myself, though, if we didn't have any other options like dissolving it chemically. We don't know any real doctors, and even though I'm an engineer, I know more than anyone else about us and our particular physiology. I've never done brain surgery, but neither has Leatherhead or Nick or anybody else on HEAT. At least I'd have an equal chance as them of doing it okay."

"But even you can't do brain surgery on yourself," Leo nodded. "I understand."

"It's my brain, Leo," Don finally met his older brother's gaze, and Leonardo was struck by how vulnerable their usually unshakable genius looked. "The one thing I really have going for me. I'm not a leader, I'm not crazy strong or fast, but I can do this. And if anything, even the smallest thing, goes wrong, I'll lose it. I think I'd rather die on the table than wake up and never be able to think again."

"Donnie…" Mikey breathed.

"I hate it!" the purple-clad turtle shouted suddenly. "I hate it! It's not fair!" His words echoed across the water. "It's not…fair." Don put his head down, and started to shake.

Faster than any of them could have believed, three sets of arms wrapped themselves around the fourth, enfolding him against the night, though they could not protect him from what he carried within. Donatello didn't cry, but he trembled with terror and shame and pain, and Leo, Mikey, and Raph held him as tightly as they could. They had to hold onto him, had to keep him there and with them. Because all three realized that, in a new and terrible way, they were on the precipice, and one wrong move and they'd lose their brother forever.


	19. Nightmares Made Manifest

Sorry for the absence. December is always nutty around my house. I promise, this story really is done on my end! But I don't want to spam people with a gazillion chapters in one night, so I'm holding it to 2 per update right now. It's done, though. I promise. And I'm rather proud of it.

That's all I get paid, though – nothing else is earned but the knowledge of finishing a story that presented itself to me! So no suing me; you won't get much out of my muse. She's...unreliable.

Enjoy!

* * *

Nick,

Nothing new to report on my end. I ran the simulations with the newest scan data you provided, and the chances haven't changed much. I did manage to acquire some gear I think you'll need – the list is in the attachment. Let me know if you want anything else before we do this. I did have one new idea about trying something else, but I'm not getting far. I guess I'd better start getting used to calling you "doctor."

In terms of the other stuff, we noticed it happen again. This time it was during practice, which I've tried to keep doing even though everybody, including Master Splinter, keeps telling me to rest. They don't understand that resting won't help and won't make it go away, but I know they're just trying to do their best.

Anyway, we were sparring, and I felt that same thing happen where I was just suddenly really defensive about myself and my space and everything. I almost took Leo's head off when he tried to calm me down, and if you've ever seen Leo fight, you know it takes a lot to catch him off guard! It faded afterwards, but that's the second time this week.

I'm not sure what to think about that. I'm not sure I can think about it.

Speaking of which, yeah, I can definitely feel a presence now, though I don't really understand it. It's not like when you and I meditated together. It doesn't feel like Godzilla the same way either. It's there, though.

Let me know what you've found out.

Don

-==OOO==-

Nick pushed back from his desk with a bitter taste in his mouth. It had been nine days since Donatello's diagnosis, and each day seemed worse than the last. If Don had been a human patient with a tumor, they would have begged doctors to operate at once, but with mutant physiology and the added difficulty of the embryo's growing attachment to the very synapses of the turtle's brain, they had to risk moving slowly. Nick knew it was a delicate balance between the need for quick action and the need for detailed information, but he couldn't rush it – Don's mind would literally be on the table and in his hands.

In the meantime, things were not going well. In spite of an attempt to be his usually-upbeat self, Donatello had reported headaches, partially from stress, certainly, but partially too from the encroaching size of the embryo in his brain. And more worryingly, the turtle was beginning to display certain behavior traits that were unfamiliar to him and his family, but all too familiar to Nick. Possessiveness, territorial rage, a quickness to anger were all alien to Don's gentle nature, but were the hallmarks of Godzilla's temperament. Nick suspected that already the presence of the clone was beginning to instill changes in the young turtle, changes that were at best unwelcome, and at worst, incredibly worrying.

Nick wasn't quite sure what Donatello was sensing, but he understood all the same the impact a foreign shadow in one's mind could have, and he ached for what his friend must be feeling. Even so, though, the situation was scientifically intriguing. How could an embryo, just a tiny collection of cells, already be impacting Don's thought processes? Most developing creatures, including Godzilla, were not really sentient until nearly the end of the development process. How could this creature already be possessed of enough personality to influence the mind of its host?

"I don't suppose you have any ideas," Nick said wryly into the quiet of the lab. But he spoke inwardly, where Godzilla was half-listening and half-not, swimming lazily in the offshore waters.

Nick opened his mind to Godzilla, feeling familiar confusion and interest and yet disinterest flow across the bond. In some ways, Godzilla was deeply committed only to the protection of his territory and parent, and nothing else registered. But in others, if anything took up space in Nick's mind, Godzilla wanted to understand it as well, not cognitively, but just to determine if it indicated threat. The mutant lizard was somewhat accustomed to the complexities of Nick's thoughts, and that most of them had nothing to do with him, but he still followed them uncomprehendingly anyway.

Nick dove a little deeper, not merging directly with Godzilla, but instead exploring his memories. Godzilla didn't remember things the same way a person did, but impressions and images were stored nonetheless, and with practice, his human companion could access them. Nick dug around in Godzilla's mind, vaguely aware of a giant presence following his progress like the ultimate big, scaly brother peeking over his shoulder.

"Come on, big guy, how far back do you remember?" Nick pushed, seeking deeper and deeper. He knew he had imprinted at Godzilla at hatching, so he used that image to dive farther back, but met only darkness.

"Well, I guess that makes sense. I don't remember being born, so why should you?" Nick sighed. "But I sort of wish you did. It would explain a lot."

Godzilla mentally nudged his parent fondly, like a reptilian hug, and Nick relaxed a little.

"Yes, I'm upset, but not with you. I just don't know what's happening to my friend."

A gentle tug pulled on Nick's mind, an invitation to enter Godzilla's own, and sparing a glance at the email once more, the scientist acquiesced. Godzilla couldn't help him solve these problems, but if his charge had something to say, he wanted to hear it properly, and it was truly only when he entered Godzilla's mind fully that they could "talk."

"What's up?" he asked as he found himself once again completely within the consciousness of the enormous mutant.

"Friend," Godzilla thought, the image of Donatello rising in his mind.

"Yes, I'm worried about Donnie. But what…?"

"Friend. Me. Parent." Godzilla was obviously struggling to communicate something, so Nick relaxed even further. He let his mind become Godzilla's, let the mutant's thinking and feeling consume him, leaving only a little bit of himself to control their direction. It was disorienting, but he was becoming more and more skilled with it all the time.

Godzilla repeated the image of Donatello, but added to it a feeling of connection, similar to the feeling of connection he shared with his parent. It wasn't the same, not exactly, but Godzilla could still tell that something was there. He didn't have any direct awareness of the turtle, but he could feel the turtle anyway, as he had once felt Nick before the events that bound them consciously. Somehow, they were together.

Nick flung himself out of Godzilla's mind with surprise, hitting his own body at a mental sprint. He jumped from his chair and went back over everything he'd ever pulled about Godzilla and telepathy and their psychic bond. Then he raced to the other side of the lab and grabbed the most recent readout of the embryo in Donatello's mind.

"That's it!"

He rejoiced for one bare moment at the realization, the scientific discovery. And then his excitement faded.

"Godzilla's mind is the one in Donnie's. Somehow, something about his psychic abilities is transmitting his consciousness to the clone that got implanted into Don, since the embryo itself is essentially asleep and therefore Godzilla's mind is filling the void. It's acting like a relay tower or satellite dish, beaming the source brainwaves from Godzilla into Don. But if that's the case," and Nick's stomach constricted in fear, "what about all the other clones Don said Bishop was developing? And what happens if any of them wake up?"

-==OOO==-

Leonardo cringed, closing the door to the dojo behind him quietly as he approached the living room. From the sounds of it, today was not a good day.

"Just stay out of here!" Donatello bellowed.

"Fine! If that's how you want it, you got it!"

A moment later, Raph stalked out of Don's workshop, nearly shaking with rage. He kicked a lone cardboard box that had probably once held medical supplies and now held whatever garbage had been nearby, causing the carton to fly across the room with a trail of papers and other debris soaring in its wake.

"Raph…" Leo began.

"Don't start! I already got told off once today!" the red-banded turtle snarled. Leonardo looked at him steadily for a few moments, and as expected, Raph's face slowly melted a little. "Yeah, I know. But he ain't eaten in more than a day, Leo! I just wanted to…"

"You went into his room, didn't you?" he interrupted.

"Yeah." Then, "He can't help it, can he?"

"No, I don't think he can." Leonardo sighed with pain.

The stress of his situation, combined with the rapid growth of the invader in Donatello's mind had been having some impacts on the usually-gentle turtle. Primary amongst those was a newfound and extreme territorial instinct around his personal space, particularly his workroom. For the last two or three days, anyone who so much as peeked their head into Don's space ran the risk of being bodily thrown out. On a good day, he could control the impulse. But on a bad one, the measure of his trust in the invader determined how physical his reaction – that he had merely shouted at Raph rather than attacking outright indicated he felt particularly comfortable with that brother, appearances notwithstanding.

"Leo, what're we gonna do? This ain't Don! This ain't our brother!"

"I know," he said, voice low, "but what can we do? We can't operate on him ourselves, Raph, and everybody agrees that they need more time."

"Yeah, but how much more time do we have?" Raphael demanded. "How long before it's too late to…?" He couldn't finish the question, but it hung in the air.

"We've got to trust that they all know what they're doing. If they say the time now is more important and won't…hurt Don's recovery, then we've got to believe them," Leo replied with more confidence than he felt.

"And in the meantime, he's in there, all by himself, hurting!" Raph's voice grew louder as he pointed at the closed workroom door. "His head is only getting worse, he forgets to eat because it hurts too bad, and he won't let anybody near him. He even stopped going to see HEAT because the walk was too hard, but he won't let us drive him in the Battle Shell either. Leo," and a helpless note crept into his anger, "it's like he's already fading away from us."

"Raph, I know. Believe me, I know." The leader of the turtles clenched his jaw to keep his anger in check, sadness at the edges of his voice. He reached out to put an arm around his brother's shoulders, and the fact that Raphael didn't pull away spoke as to how shaken the so-called toughest of the turtles really was. "The only one who has any luck getting through to him lately is Master Splinter."

"Not true!" came a sudden voice. Both turned to see Michelangelo standing outside his room, apparently listening to their conversation. He smiled cheerfully, and it was only a little forced. "I just got Don to agree to a real dinner!"

"How the shell did you do that?" Raph wanted to know. "When I asked him, he nearly tore my head off."

"I didn't go in there," Mikey shrugged. "Learned that lesson already, bro! I sent him an IM instead. It's how he talks to HEAT, so I thought he might talk to me. And he did!"

"Mikey, I never thought I'd say this, but sometimes you're a genius," Leo smiled, shaking his head.

"Have I been in there so long that the definition of 'genius' changed?" All three were surprised to see Donatello closing the door of his workshop behind him as he moved to join them. "Because it seems like only yesterday we were calling Mikey a doofus. Has language really degraded so far? It's probably because of the internet."

"Don?" Raph asked, a lot of questions in the one word.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said all in a rush, face falling to sheepishness. "I…I don't really know how to explain it. It's really hard. But I didn't mean it, Raph. I don't mean any of the nasty stuff. It's just that sometimes…" he absently rubbed the back of his head and fell into silence.

"We understand," Leonardo smiled at his brother, grateful to see the usual friendly light in Don's eyes. It was a look they hadn't seen in days. "Don't sweat it."

"Thanks. I did just give myself a big shot of pain-killer, so although I'm a little foggy, at least I can think straight and act more like myself."

"Sure that's okay?" Raph asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I checked the dosage with Nick. Should be fine," the genius assured him.

"So, anything new?" Mikey wanted to know.

"Um, yeah. Come on. I'll help in the kitchen and tell you what we figured out so far. The good news is that we can probably do something about my situation really soon." Donatello started to move towards the kitchen, but was stopped by a hand on his elbow.

"My son," Splinter said, having appeared from out of nowhere, "if there is bad news to accompany the good, I would rather hear it at once."

Don guiltily looked at his feet, and Leo kept himself from smirking in triumph. If he'd suggested his brother share the details right away, he'd have been evaded or distracted until Don felt like coming clean. But not one of the turtles could avoid a direct query from their father. Leo hoped someday he'd be able to produce the same honesty in his team, but realistically, he'd never get the same obedience from his brothers. On the other hand, it had been his brothers Don had trusted first and their father later, so that counted for something, too.

"Um, yeah. The bad news," the purple-clad turtle took a breath and straightened up, reporting to them as if he were relaying a dry scientific discovery and not the state of his own health and wellbeing, "is that the clone implanted in my brain appears to be picking up psychic signals directly from Godzilla."

"Wait, what?" Raphael asked.

"Something about Godzilla's DNA and Bishop's cloning process linked the mind of the embryo he put in me with the mind of Godzilla. Like, if instead of creating a baby from Godzilla, he split off a piece of Godzilla directly. They have a shared consciousness."

"So, what does that mean?" Leo pressed.

"Well, it's the reason for my, ahem, mood swings," Don blushed slightly. "I'm being influenced by Godzilla's emotions. His territorial instincts and behaviors are being directly transmitted to me somehow, and whenever he's been particularly upset, it impacts how I think and feel."

"When the G-man gets mad, you get mad too?" Mikey tried to clarify.

"Basically," Donnie admitted. "And it's getting worse. The more the clone develops, the more it taps into Godzilla and transmits back to me."

"I believe I understand," Master Splinter nodded.

"I'm glad somebody does!" Raph exploded. "'Cause I sure don't! How can you have his thoughts in your brain, Donnie? That don't even make sense!"

"I know, but it happens, Raph. I'm not even the first." At the questioning looks, he sighed. "Okay, this is something I found out a while ago, but I promised Nick I wouldn't tell anyone unless he said it was okay, and given what we've just figured out, he decided you had the right to know. Besides, he said you saw something the day you went after Raph in Bishop's lair, so this probably won't be a big shock.

"I'm not sure exactly when this happened," Don continued, "but a while ago some crazy woman kidnapped Nick because she realized there was some sort of bond between him and Godzilla. It's actually something that I'd speculated about too, given just the behaviors that I'd seen on some of the footage I found online. I knew that Godzilla had bonded with Nick the way a baby bird does with its parents at birth, and this woman apparently had some theory that the bond went deeper than that. So she did something to Nick, though he didn't tell me exactly what. Something with drugs, and something to Godzilla, too. But the end result was that Nick and Godzilla were forced into a psychic bond."

"A what now?" Mikey asked.

"Um…the only example I can think of is the time Master Splinter entered my mind to save me from the Triceratons. They're mentally and emotionally symbiotic, sharing each other's thoughts and feelings. When Godzilla gets hit in battle, Nick feels the pain. When Nick is afraid or angry, Godzilla shares the feelings. Nick's learned to block a lot of it out, since trying to survive as half of a giant lizard is hard enough given the differences in Godzilla's cognitive processes, but it's there. Nick had wondered before how strong exactly Godzilla's psychic abilities were. I guess this proves that they're pretty strong, if he can impact my own brain with just a couple of cloned cells to forge a connection.

"Anyway," he continued past their thoughtful stares as they processed what now made so much sense about Nick's "backup" when rescuing Raph from the underwater lab, "it also explains how I was able to embed a message to Nick in Godzilla's mind while I was unconscious at Bishop's. Once that clone was in here, I had a hard-line connection to Godzilla, and in that state of deep sleep, my mind could tap the connection. It's how HEAT knew Bishop was cloning Godzilla, because I told them."

While everyone took in the information, Don felt his own mind race, grateful that for the moment, at least, he could think freely. Living half in a fog, his mind not even his own, would have been frightening if he was self-aware enough to experience it; most of the time lately, though, he hadn't been. It was like being drugged – he knew he should be more worried, but he couldn't get the worry through the outside influence exerting pressure on his mind. But that was not even his biggest concern.

Don's bigger question was the same as Nick's. What happened if Bishop had more clones than just the one taking up residence in his brain? What happened if there was more than one mini-Godzilla out there? Would they all be shared? Whose mind would be strongest, and who would wield control? Already they had proven that Don's moods and emotions could be influenced and, once, almost completely swamped under by Godzilla's. If Godzilla could rule in Donatello's mind with only an embryo there, what happened with a true clone under Bishop's control?

It was a terrible thought any way he speculated.

"So, what do we do?" Leo finally broke the tense quiet.

"For now? I guess just have patience with me while we finish up the research before we start digging this thing out," Don tried to smile but it fell rather flat. "And, I think I'm going to do a little more meditation. You could help me with that if you wanted. It seems to help me keep control," he answered the question he could see on his elder brother's face.

"Sure, we can do that," the blue-banded turtle nodded. "But Donnie, this is…it's so hard, you know? We're pretty helpless here. If there's anything you need, anything, you'll tell us, right?"

"I will. I promise," Don nodded.

"Well, you asked for dinner, so dinner it is! Come on!" Michelangelo led the charge towards the kitchen, practically dragging Raph at his side and chattering about chopping vegetables. Leonardo gave his brother a long look before following.

"My son?"

"Yes, sensei?"

"You have not told us all, I can see it in your eyes," the ninja master said softly. The guilty flush of Donatello's face proved him right. "I will not press you now, but know that you may trust us with all your news, joyful and dire. And that which is of risk to you is of great import to me, my son. Do not try to fight this battle alone, Donatello."

"I'll try, father," he replied, bowing slightly. While his master accepted the bow and moved to his chair in the kitchen, Don took a deep breath.

"Here's hoping there aren't any more clones out there," he whispered to himself, "or that whole 'dire news' thing is going to be the worst interruption to our regularly-scheduled turtle luck yet."

Suddenly a white-hot pain shot through Don's head and he reeled, leaning heavily on a nearby table as the world spun around him. He'd been getting more and more used to the consistent headaches that made him forget other things, like food, but this was something else entirely. He was dimly aware of his family turning to him in concern, of someone approaching him. But there was an almost-audible SNAP in his mind and everything changed.

Danger. Danger everywhere. Only safe was Home. Home was…somewhere else. Confusing. Anger. Fight. No, defend! He had to return Home, to protect, to defend. To kill! He was supposed to find and hurt! Protect! Home!

"Donnie?" Leo asked, moving slowly. The purple-banded turtle was trembling hard enough to rattle the table carrying his weight, his eyes wide and unseeing. It was like someone had snapped off a light somehow, and he was as completely not himself as he had been normal only moments before.

"My son?" Splinter moved slowly, as he would approach a frightened, wild creature, one hand extended.

"What's goin' on?" Raph's voice was torn between deep worry and frustration. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Beside him, Michelangelo swallowed hard, fear evident in his expression. Don looked, for a terrible moment, as they could only imagine he had right before he had been lost to the outbreak virus.

"Do not startle him," the rat ordered softly. "Be quite calm."

"Donatello," Leo whispered, still moving slowly. "Don, it's me. Come back to us, Donnie," he used his in-charge, big-brother voice, hoping that would snap him out of whatever held him. He was almost within reach when his quarry's head snapped up as though struck.

The gentlest turtle uttered an impossible growl, a sound not one of them had ever heard him make before, backing away with his shoulders hunched over and his eyes strangely black inside the whites as though completely dilated.

"My son," Splinter's voice was serene. "Control yourself and your mind. You are not what has filled you. Be yourself."

But Donatello was beyond hearing. He backed up until his shell bumped the wall of the lair, where he crouched in an almost feral way, his hands curled into claws, his face an alien snarl. His head whipped around, and with a cry, he launched himself towards the nearest exit.

"Stop him!" Leo ordered automatically, breaking into a run at full speed. He could feel rather than hear his brothers flanking him, their dash fueled by desperation. Splinter blurred ahead of them all, but a wild swing from their brother struck him in the throat and he crumbled to the ground.

"Master!" Raph skidded to a halt while the other two kept pursuing their brother. "Are you alright?"

"I am. Do not worry. Save Donatello," his sensei rasped, waving him on.

Fury at the world, never at Don, burned in Raphael's veins, and he ran with all his might. Donnie was already out of the lair, half-sprinting, half-crawling on all fours through the familiar sewers, Mikey and Leo somewhat behind. Raph was no doctor, but even he could see that the way Don was running was probably going to hurt him – their bodies were just not built to move that way!

"What're we gonna do?" he shouted as he caught up.

"It's got to be Godzilla!" Mikey called back. "Something's happening and Don's caught up in it!"

"So he'll run to HEAT," Leo put in. "Mike, call them, find out what's up. Maybe we can head him off and beat him there."

As one, the three brothers adjusted their course, no longer following Donatello directly, but instead moving parallel to the path he would take, where they could monitor his progress but move more efficiently. Michelangelo dialed while running, his fingers shaking. He was almost afraid to have to ask the question on all of their minds.

What could have happened to make Godzilla that angry?

-==OOO==-

"What made the big guy so upset?" Randy shouted. It was just barely twilight, the sky still yellow with light that illuminated the harbor. The hacker had come running at the roar that usually meant trouble, and had almost crashed into the rest of HEAT gathered on the dock.

Out in the water, Godzilla was bobbing erratically, spitting fire into the sky between screams that seemed to rip the air with their anger. He was keeping away from the shore, and since this particular stretch of water was infrequently traveled he had not run into any boats yet, but if he didn't calm down, and soon, there would be a giant-lizard-sized problem. HEAT's neighbors were only vaguely used to the mutant's presence, and any amount of disturbance resulted in calls to the police and the military. The police had long since stopped coming on those calls, but Major Hicks would not be pleased if Godzilla's antics wound up on the evening news.

"We don't know!" Elsie shouted back to him. She was gripping Nick's shoulders tightly, worry etched in her face. The scientist was bent over the railing, breathing hard, oblivious to anything but the contact obviously overriding his mind.

"There is no danger in the immediate vicinity," Monique reported sharply, "so this is not a territorial dispute."

"It looks like they're in pain," Mendel put in, only slightly backing away from Nick and, by extension, Godzilla. Even as accustomed as he'd become to the concept of the bond between his human friend and the mutant, he was still not comfortable with it when it manifested so wildly.

"Jefe," Randy said, pushing closer to Nick, "what's going on? What can we do to help?"

"Give…me…time…" he gasped.

Nick never heard Randy's phone ring, nor the conversation that started happening around him. All his effort was focused inward. His skull felt like it was cracking in two, and he knew Godzilla felt it far worse. But it wasn't pain, it wasn't an injury. This was different. It was a bit like when the outbreak virus had entered Godzilla's mind, but less like a controlling fog and more deliberate, targeted, even. If he didn't know better, Nick would have thought someone was attacking Godzilla psychically.

Of course!

"Godzilla," Nick called through his mind, lending all his determination to his inner voice as he fought to reach his charge through the confusing sea that seemed to be drowning them both. "Godzilla, listen to me! You've got to listen! Follow me, Godzilla!"

The more he concentrated, the more he could see the tempest in the mutant's mind. It threatened to throw him from his aim, but the hands on his shoulders and one on his arm anchored his consciousness to himself. Surprise had caught him undefended, and the moment Godzilla had been taken down so had he, but now he knew what to expect and he could weather it. He pushed himself farther into Godzilla's mind, calming the deep waters as he reached forward.

"Godzilla, it's not you! It's not us! It's someone else! Pull yourself back to me, back to yourself!"

A blast of denial hit him, and Nick flinched as if struck. The sensations swam around him, feelings and thoughts that were neither his nor Godzilla's. Obedience, rage, a different parent.

"A different parent?" Nick wondered. Then he understood completely. "Bishop!" He refocused on his charge, reacting violently against the mind that was pushing itself into his. "Godzilla, Bishop is trying to control us! Remember me! It pulled you out of mind-control once before. Don't let him beat you now!"

There was a tremendous shudder inside, like an earthquake, and Godzilla's inner fire burned. Nick felt his own stomach heat uncomfortably with suppressed rage and denial. But the image of himself coalesced in Godzilla's thoughts, and the mutant clung to it.

"Parent. Nick."

"Yes, Godzilla. I'm here. This is what is real. Don't let Bishop tell you otherwise."

"Parent. Protect parent. Not fight for other. Protect parent." With every thought, Godzilla's mind gained strength against the outside influence. "Protect!"

"You do protect me, Godzilla. You always will. Separate yourself from everything else. I'm here."

"With parent. Always with parent."

Calm. It radiated across the bond, as though a floodgate had been closed, and Nick considered that possibly it had. Godzilla had always been better at psychic contact than himself – perhaps the mutant had some inherent shielding abilities. He had already proven he could, at will, choose not to intrude in Nick's mind. Could he then block out another's? It seemed as likely as anything else at this point.

Nick breathed, feeling the heat fade within as his charge began to collect himself again. Acting as one, Godzilla ceased his thrashing about, diving under the familiar waters to return to his lair. Once there, he curled up on the rock. One sleepy eye remained trained on Nick within his mind.

"I will protect you from this," Godzilla seemed to be telling Nick.

"I know you will. And I'll anchor you so you're not lost or alone." The rush of protectiveness the human carried for his charge surprised neither of them, but it comforted them both. Gently, delicately, Nick pulled himself from Godzilla, not completely, but enough to return to himself. But he kept a few "feelers" with the mutant, in case his steadying presence was needed.

"Nick?" Elsie's voice called him to open his eyes.

"We're okay," he breathed, aware that his throat was dry and his voice hoarse as he shook himself back to full, physical reality.

"What happened?" Monique demanded, scarcely giving him a chance to breathe.

"I think we've got a problem." Nick straightened up a little shakily. "Something just tried to control Godzilla's mind, and it almost worked."

"What?" Mendel's eyes were almost comically wide.

"You remember how Godzilla and I got like this in the first place, right? For a while there, the drugs and the piece of equipment embedded in his brain forced him under the control of that woman," Nick almost growled. He never named her if he could help it – it raised too much anger in him, and that always woke Godzilla as well.

"Right. But you broke through it and reached him yourself and her control was gone forever," Elsie said.

"Exactly. This time it wasn't drugs or machinery that caused the contact, but it was the same problem. Something got inside Godzilla's mind and tried to give him a new parent, a new personality. But this time it was Bishop."

The other four members of HEAT exchanged uneasy glances. Then Randy cleared his throat.

"Um, you didn't happen to notice the phone call we got while you were in the G-man's head, did you?"

"No. Why?"

"Apparently Donatello reacted to what was happening here and attacked his own family before fleeing their lair," Monique said coldly. "He was heading in this direction when we lost contact with them."

"How is that possible?" Craven asked.

"Because the only way Bishop could implant those thoughts into Godzilla's mind would be some kind of programming, and since he hasn't been programming me, Godzilla, or Don, there's only one option left. He's got a clone, maybe more than one, and he's trying to convince them that he's their parent and they should work for him." Nick's voice became hard and sharp.

"Will something like that work?" Elsie almost whispered.

"If, as you have suggested, the mind of Godzilla is common to all, it is unlikely Bishop will forge complete obedience in any clone that shares in the connection," Monique considered. "But if he employs any means to influence them biologically, they may become distant from Godzilla, and as a consequence, you, in which case, it is possible."

"You mean if he drugs them the way Godzilla and Nick got drugged," Randy put in. "So, like, the G-man's brain is split across a bunch of little guys, and if Bishop dopes them up enough, they'll, what, forget they're part of Godzilla? And then his brainwashing will work?"

"It is plausible."

"What will that do to the real Godzilla? And Nick and Don?" Craven rubbed his nose worriedly.

"Impossible to speculate. Obviously it causes them pain and perhaps loss of themselves within their minds." Monique crossed her arms. "However, this is not our priority. It is now apparent that Bishop is intent on turning at least one clone of Godzilla to his own purposes, and we may assume that includes our elimination. We must neutralize this threat at once. All else must be secondary, or there will be nothing left of any mind to save."

"Agreed," Nick nodded, the sting of his encounter with Bishop's intent still giving him a headache. "We need a way of finding him and shutting him down, fast. Before this happens to me, Godzilla, and Don again."

"The turtles! They might be able to find him!" Elsie's eyes lit up.

"I can find him without any help, thanks," Randy said, pride stung.

"Yeah, but we'll still want their help to shut him down," she countered.

"They are likely already on their way here," Monique pointed out. "Randy, begin what you must to find Bishop. We will prepare for the turtles' arrival and determine a course of action to keep Godzilla and Nick from being overwhelmed while we eliminate the threat."

All five members of HEAT had turned to head into the lab when they were stopped as sharply as if they had run into a glass wall.

Before them, four turtles stood, and three of them bore expressions that promised death. Swift, painful death.


	20. Identity Crisis

If anybody else has a good clever line for the standard disclaimer, I'd love to hear it but I'm all out...

Enjoy!

* * *

"Um, hi guys!" Randy found his voice first around the fat lump of intimidation that had settled in his throat. "What's up?"

"What has Bishop done?" Leonardo's voice was tightly controlled and sharp, as though he were striking each word with his blade. There was menace in his tone, and his hands gripped his swords.

"You heard us?" Nick asked, unconsciously taking a step back. He wasn't afraid of the turtles, not exactly, but he had the sudden feeling of the need for respectful distance, as he often got with Godzilla or other dangerous predators.

"We heard." Raphael's voice was low and growled, and his fists shook.

"You knew that Bishop had implanted an embryo into Don's head," Monique stated, not backing down an inch. "That he has another should not be a surprise to you."

"It's not." Leo's eyes narrowed.

"We don't care about the clones," Michelangelo put in, and all of HEAT was surprised to see the usually-cheerful turtle's face twisted into smoldering anger. "All we want to know is what he did to make Donnie like…that." His voice faltered as he turned.

HEAT had seen Donatello at his best, bright and eager and brilliant. They had seen him weak and sick. They had seen him frightened and lost in a diagnosis beyond him. But they had not seen him like this.

The olive-green turtle stood surrounded by his brothers, Leo in front of him and the others to either side, partially blocking him from HEAT's view. But as the lead turtle moved aside, they could clearly see that Don was in bad shape. He stood, but his head was tilted oddly to one side and he swayed as though he might fall at any time. His arms and legs twitched eerily, like a jerky puppet on strings. His face was completely blank, eyes wide, unseeing, and strangely red. All at once, he let out a growl and started to curl into a crouch. Michelangelo reached forward and gently pulled his brother until he was again upright, but the face remained contorted into something feral, alien on the gentle face. He let out a sound that was more bark than vocalization, and his nose began to bleed.

"You tell us what Bishop did to make Donnie like this," Raph's voice was almost lost in his barely-contained fury.

"He's…he must be brainwashing or training the clones somehow," Elsie realized. "Godzilla blocked him out, and so he's protecting Nick, but Donatello is hard-wired into the collective. He can't block the signals coming into his brain from what the clones are receiving from Bishop."

"But what's he doin' to them to make him like that?" Randy was aghast.

"It does not matter," Monique snapped. "Accept the horror of it and adjust."

"Horrible is right," Craven shivered. At the scientist's show of weakness and compassion, all three cognizant turtles seemed to let their anger deflate at least a little.

"We've tried everything," and the steel in Leo's voice melted to something almost vulnerable. "We can't get him to snap out of it."

"You gotta help him," Mikey put in. "This isn't our brother. You've gotta fix him!"

"There's gotta be somethin' you can do to make him not like this," Raph added, though the rage burned in his eyes still. But one hand had gone to his brother's shoulder, mirroring the grip Michelangelo had on the other side.

"We'll try," Nick said decisively. He wished he could turn away, not see his friend like this, but he knew that was the coward's way out. Don was living this torture – he could at least endure to look at it. "Bring him in."

"Jefe, what's the plan? What can we do?" Randy asked as Mendel moved ahead of the rest to throw open doors while the turtles steered their brother gently.

"We don't know yet," Elsie said, exchanging a glance with Nick. "The obvious thing would be the surgery, but we're just not ready."

"We may never be ready," Mendel said fiercely. "Can we risk letting him stay like this?"

"Haste is more dangerous than patience, no?" Monique narrowed her eyes. "We cannot unmake a mistake at this juncture. You must be certain."

Nick gestured to the table, but Raph and Mikey, still guiding Don with Leo behind them, hesitated. They both turned back to the blue-banded turtle, who sighed. Nick read the clear worry in their faces and raised a hand.

"It's for his safety as much as ours. He could hurt himself, and nobody wants that. I'm sorry."

"We know," Leonardo breathed deeply, steadying himself. Then he squared his shoulders. "All right. But I'll do it."

Leo met Mikey's eyes, then Raph's. His heart was beating so hard and fast it was nearly making him dizzy, but there was nothing he could do to help it. The doctor was right – Don was as much a danger to himself as others in this state, and they had to protect him. But it went against his every instinct, his every hour of training, his every vow to his brother to strap him onto a table like an experiment. And yet, it was an experiment that might be the only hope of saving his life.

He waved the other two away from Don, noting the fear in Mikey's face and the fury in Raph's, and signaled them to move to the table itself. His mind flashed to the moment in Bishop's lab at Area 51 when he had been the one to bring Donatello down, shooting mercilessly at his brother in an effort to save his life. It was that all over again. When he had time to rage again, Bishop would pay for this pain – his own, his brothers', and most importantly, Donnie's.

With the lightning speed of a true ninja, Leo blurred forward, grasping Donatello from behind. Even as his brother moved awkwardly to react to the sudden grip, Leo was already hefting his weight in a modified throw. As gently as it could be done, he flipped Don onto the table, holding back his dismay at the crack of an already hurt skull on the hard metal when his brother arched his neck at just the wrong moment. Red and orange moved at either side, pulling their brother's arms and legs to the restraints, affixing them tightly, moreso than HEAT would ever dare. They alone knew what their bodies could take, knew what would hurt Don, knew how tightly to bind him to prevent his ninja reflexes and flexibility from finding him an opening for escape. It was the work of a moment, and the weight of the ultimate betrayal.

Donatello immediately bellowed his blind fury, his bloody nose making him look rabid as his face twisted. Michelangelo, visibly holding back tears, turned away. Raphael looked ready to murder something, and he stared at the body of his brother with almost resolute defiance. But it was Leonardo who moved to take the hand now locked in a manacle, who spoke into the awful silence broken by the alien primal scream.

"Don. I don't know if you can hear me this time. We won't let Bishop win, we won't let you get lost again. I know you're still in there. Just hang on. We'll get rid of it, I promise. No matter what, we won't lose you again." He looked away from his brother to the HEAT team, their expressions ranging from stricken to impassive to blazing.

"When Don got sick last time," he gulped, "and he changed into a monster, he didn't even look like himself anymore. But it was like this, too. I think this is worse, though," and he turned back to the table, "because he still looks like our Don. Except he isn't."

"Do something," Raphael ordered, pinning Nick with his glare. "Anything. Do it."

"I'm not ready, I can't operate now. But I think I can at least give him something to make it harder for the embryo to influence him," Nick said. He moved to his lab, Elsie already at his side. Without words, they began to mix a cocktail off a combination of drugs that worked on Don according to his own research and drugs that worked on Godzilla, referencing again and again the preliminary work Donatello himself had done for this eventuality. Referencing a pile of notes, they shuffled things around until Elsie suddenly stopped.

"I don't believe it," She murmured. Any noise that wasn't Donatello's feral sounds drew the attention of everyone, and suddenly there were seven individuals crowding her. She pointed to a notation in a document Don had emailed over just the previous day, one she had merely skimmed until something caught her attention. "See that? He…he knew. Or he speculated. He planned for the worst-case scenario, and he gave us a start on it."

"But what is it?" Randy asked.

"A chemical solution that will target the embryo in his brain through the nuclear signature left in its DNA and, in theory, dissolve it without requiring surgery to take it out," Nick added, looking over her shoulder.

"That's great!" Mendel smiled. Then the smile faded. "Wait, 'in theory'?"

"He never finished the formula," Elsie said. "He was able to make a temporary neuro-depressant that should impair its connectivity to his brain. That's what we're making now, and he sketched out the beginnings of an idea to make it more permanent. But it's incomplete."

"Can you finish his work?" Monique demanded.

Nick and Elsie looked at each other for a long time, handing the paper over to Mendel and sharing significant looks, pointing at various markings on the paper and mumbling to themselves. Raphael was about ready to shout at them, but a gesture from Leo kept him quiet. The three breathed in and let it out almost in unison. Nick looked up.

"Right now, no. But given time, we can try."

"All right. Don's…secure now," and Leonardo felt his voice crack on the dryness of his throat as he spoke even as he tried to adopt his usual tone of command. "We've got to tell Master Splinter what's happened. And our other friends deserve to know, too." He glanced at the form struggling on the table and turned to his brothers. "We'll head back to the lair, but we'll be back soon."

"Don't any of you wanna, you know, stay with him?" Randy asked. To his surprise, all three turtles shifted, and as one their eyes fell and they stared at the floor. There was a moment of awkward quiet.

"Don't pressure them, Randy," Elsie broke in after a moment. As the hacker turned to her in confusion, she gestured to Donatello. "He's their brother, Randy. As hard as it is for us to watch him like that, don't you think it's even harder on them? Leave them alone."

Randy gulped and nodded, flushed with embarrassment. Elsie was right. Seeing Donnie like this, feral, lost, it was enough to turn his stomach, and he'd seen a lot of weird and scary things in the last few years since joining up with Nick and HEAT. He remembered how hard it had been for Nick to watch Godzilla in pain even before they'd been forcibly connected, how hard it had been when Elsie had been possessed by alien mind control. He knew how badly he felt seeing the mutant friend in this state – all at once he realized he couldn't imagine the depths of pain it must cause his family. Even knowing the turtles for such a short time, they were more insular than anyone he'd ever known; they operated as a closed unit, even when they could open up to outsiders. Instinctively, the turtles thought of their whole world as a set of four, five if they considered their father, long before remembering any human allies. To have a link in that chain broken must be rending them emotional-limb-from-limb.

"Gotcha," he said softly. "Sorry."

"No, you're probably right," Leo began. "We shouldn't leave him…"

"You're not," Nick interrupted. "He knows he's with friends. We'll give him this sedative and he'll be out until you get back." He managed a comforting smile. "Go tell your master and your friends. We'll take care of him."

"C'mon, Leo," Raph urged. "The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back. I'd rather be here when he wakes up." Beside him, Mikey's face seemed to relax a little at the suggestion from the strained expression he'd been unable to shake.

"All right," the blue-clad turtle agreed. "But if anything changes, if anything happens, call us immediately, okay?"

"We will," Elsie nodded.

-==OOO==-

Nick closed his eyes, rubbing his temples intently. He had at least two headaches, only one of which was his own, and no amount of aspirin was really able to block either. At least the lab itself was relatively peaceful – after the compound they'd produced, Don had fallen into a deep sleep. Elsie and Mendel were across the room, working quietly with some of Don's newest notes. Randy had retreated to his own corner, working furiously on some hacking, so furiously, in fact, that he wasn't even talking to himself while doing it. That usually meant it was serious. Monique was nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean much given her usual ability to disappear while still actually being in the same room with them.

Nick pushed himself off the couch reluctantly. He'd retreated there to try to clear his mind after running dry of ideas, but it wasn't working. Instead he moved to the window, looking out at the water that reflected the city lights in the dark. He could feel Godzilla in his lair below, suffering right alongside him. Their headaches were shared, the perfect reflection of the mess they were caught in this time.

"Godzilla?" he called mentally.

The lizard sent back a questioning response, almost the way a human would raise an eyebrow to such an entreaty.

"How are you doing?" Nick asked, knowing his charge would feel the question more than he could understand the words.

"I hurt."

"I know, big guy," he sympathized. As near as Nick could tell, Godzilla was still being hammered by whatever Bishop was doing with the clones, his efforts completely focused on keeping out the external influence. Godzilla was successful – not so much as a hint of what had possessed Donatello was leaking through the chinks of his control – but it was like locking a door with someone pounding outside. Even though there was no way Bishop was getting into their minds, the constant barrage was annoying at best.

"Parent?" came the worried question as Godzilla prodded for Nick's own well-being.

"I'm worried, but I'm okay," he assured him. Something warm and content slipped across the bond, Godzilla's feelings about his parent's safety being easy enough to interpret. Then another feeling came across, along with an image of Donatello – the only possible translation was "Is this one a danger?"

"No," Nick replied firmly. "He's sick. Like you were," and he remembered for both of them when Godzilla had been under the effects of the outbreak virus at the island not long before. "I'm helping him."

Acceptance, but wariness, flooded him. Nick was surprised by how concerned Godzilla was, not over his well-being, which was to be expected, but over Nick's own vigilance. And then he realized that Godzilla himself was also "sick." Not the way Donatello was, but still, something was impairing his ability to function comfortably, and he was, in a sense, vulnerable. And therefore, Nick was also vulnerable in Godzilla's eyes. Nick was sure Godzilla would respond if there were true danger, but it might be like dealing with a crisis with a migraine – he would try, but the outcome would not be optimal.

"I'll be okay, Godzilla. I promise."

Nick broke the contact as soon as he was sure Godzilla had received his assurance. He found conversing with his charge to be oddly comforting, but also, he could feel the shadow at the edge of Godzilla's mind, and it was a persistent reminder of Bishop's presence in another mind. This was no time to work on human-lizard relations.

"Where are we at?" he asked aloud, moving towards Elsie and Mendel.

"Working through Don's notes, matching them up with what we've already found," Elsie reported. "It looks like he's on the right track. His mutation is similar to Godzilla's, but it's different enough that there's a chance we could isolate the implant from Bishop and attack it chemically, like a virus, and if not dissolve it completely, at least shrink it enough to make extraction less risky."

"The problem is coming up with something that won't hurt Don at the same time," Mendel sighed. "He didn't figure out how to solve that problem, and so far, neither have we."

"Keep trying. Anything we can do to make the surgery less risky is worth a shot," Nick replied. He stepped to the side of the table on which his friend rested. "I know we might not have a choice, but we have to try." As he looked at Donatello's sleeping form, he reached forward to a shadow under the turtle's neck. His fingers came away bloody.

"Hey, did you guys see this?" Without waiting for a response, he grabbed a flashlight and examined him more closely. "Looks like Don must've opened that same head-wound again when they put him on the table."

"We'll have to patch him up," Elsie said, drawing near. "This would be the worst possible time to risk an infection."

"But how?" Mendel wanted to know. "We had to have him on his front to access that part of his head when he was on the table last time."

"Then we turn him over," Nick answered. "Come on. He's still out cold. We can flip him over now, before his brothers get back and see this."

"Are you sure?" Craven approached hesitantly. "What if he wakes up?"

"I think that is less likely than the other turtles being upset by seeing him bleeding when they get back. I'm willing to risk it."

"If you say so," Elsie shrugged. She moved to unbuckle the restraints at his legs and pointed Mendel to the right arm.

Nick worked at the manacle on the left hand, making note of how tightly the turtles had bound Don. A moment later, the three of them had him completely unrestrained, and they nervously searched his face for signs of waking. But he was as still as before, with no change to either respiration or the heartbeat they could see pulsing in a vein in his neck. On a count of three, the scientists hefted the turtle over, carefully flipping him without bumping him around too much. Elsie cradled his head so he didn't bash it on the table again. She took the chance to examine the wound on the back of Don's head, relieved to note that it looked worse than it really was. Once they had him re-secured, it would be quick work to patch up.

"What are you doing?" Monique demanded from out of nowhere. All three scientists froze and turn to her in surprise.

"Just turning him over so we can deal with this," Elsie gestured.

"Quickly, then." She turned towards Randy, apparently dismissing them.

Nick, Elsie, and Mendel exchanged a look that, even weary with stress, made them smile. Monique was so paranoid, and so intent on being in charge of their safety. It would be funny if it weren't so predictable.

But as they exchanged glances, they failed to notice a turtle's red eyes opening.

-==OOO==-

"Look, I'm sorry we didn't tell you," Leonardo sighed defensively. "But now you know the whole story, okay?"

Before him, three faces looked back, their expressions ranging from disappointed to confused to infuriated. Leo tried to deflect their gazes, but all three resolutely kept their eyes on him. This was definitely a drawback to being the leader; Mikey and Raph were on the other end of the room, paying attention, of course, but it wasn't their shells having to explain to Leatherhead, Casey, and April how sick Don had gotten, and how much they hadn't shared.

"I just…I don't believe it!" April stood up from the couch and started to pace. "How could you not tell us that Don had a…a thing growing in his brain?"

"Chill out, April. The guys probably had a good reason. Right?" Casey asked.

"Uh, yeah," Leo tried not to fidget. In fact, thinking about the last several days, or maybe the last several weeks, he was sort of at a loss as to why nobody had told April and Casey and Leatherhead about Donnie's situation. They had all, of course, been present when he'd been re-infected by Bishop a while back, but since then, things had just sort of moved on without them. Then again, April and Casey had been on the move a lot, visiting both Casey's mom and April's sister, and though they were always in contact, it wasn't exactly the sort of conversation one carried on over the phone. Leo had let them know they were having trouble with Bishop again, but he'd been pretty lax on the details.

Leatherhead, though, now that one was the real question. Leatherhead was as much a scientist as Don, brilliant in his own right and very familiar with the turtles' anatomy and genetics. The reason Leo hadn't thought to update the croc was that he just didn't think about it – talking to Leatherhead was Don's deal. He could see in the mutant's eyes that there was no blame levied towards himself for the slight, but still there remained the question: why hadn't Donatello told Leatherhead directly?

"What is done is done," Master Splinter saved his eldest son from having to answer more awkward questions. "Now we must determine how to move forward."

"Are you sure you can trust those HEAT guys?" Casey wanted to know. "I mean, they're friends with Big-and-Scaly himself, but they're also in with the military."

"We're sure. Don trusted them first," Leo answered heavily.

"I concur," Leatherhead spoke up at last. "Donatello's interest in Godzilla is long-standing, and I have been privy to several of his lines of inquiry prior to the last few months. From all I have been able to establish, and from everything he shared with me, Donatello had ample evidence to prove that the members of HEAT were, as much as could be established without direct contact, the sort of scientific group most likely to be amenable to our attempts at friendship. If recent events have not disproven that, I would say your brother's analysis was accurate as far as that goes."

"Okay, so we trust them. But Don's…he's dying, isn't he?" April sat heavily on the nearest chair.

"No way!" Mikey shouted from across the room.

"Yes, he is," Splinter contradicted him softly. At that, all noise stopped. "By inches and minutes, but yes. His mind is strong, but how long he can hold out against an invader on both the physical and mental planes remains to be seen."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Casey wordlessly put an arm around April as she looked each of them in the face, searching for answers. April loved all the turtles like brothers, but there was no denying that Don was also probably her best friend. She fought to keep tears from overwhelming her. The turtles needed her help, not her grief.

"I…don't know," Leo answered. He turned to his father.

"For now," the sensei decided, "Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and I shall return to HEAT's laboratory to aid Donatello if it can be done. We have not yet tried certain techniques to reach him. Perhaps we will find him not through the body, but within the soul."

"What can we do to help?" Casey asked.

"I will remain here," Leatherhead elected. "It is possible Donatello himself has some information or notes that would help HEAT in their work that he was unable to forward before falling ill." He coughed uncomfortably. "I am still wary of scientists, so I will, I think, remain in the shadows until absolutely needed. I believe I can be the most help from here, with Donatello's own equipment."

"I'll help you for now, then," April decided. She had been a heartbeat away from opting to join the turtles and Splinter where Don was, but there was something in Raph's silence, and in Mikey's troubled eyes that bothered her. She'd seen Don transformed from the outbreak virus, and that was hard enough. She wasn't sure she wanted to be haunted any further by the image of the gentle, bright turtle mindless and savage. Besides, even if Don trusted HEAT, she didn't know them yet. If something went wrong, she wanted to be able to serve as an ace in the hole to bail them out.

"What about me?" Casey asked.

"Mr Jones," Splinter said deftly, "it is unlikely we will come to the end of these events without once again meeting Agent Bishop in battle. Other than assisting Miss O'Neil and Leatherhead in their endeavors, I believe the most we can ask of you is to prepare yourself for that time."

"You got it! I'll be ready! Just give me a call and I'll be there to kick some serious Bishop butt!" Casey's eyes narrowed.

Leonardo and Splinter exchanged a look. Casey was so well-meaning, and he was pretty good in a fight, but there was another reason for framing things this way – hopefully, the promise of a battle would keep him from disturbing the scientific research that must happen first. Casey was a staunch, loyal, courageous friend, but he was also a brick. And right now, the situation demanded something slightly more subtle and delicate.

"Very well. We shall gather some things and make our way to Staten Island, then," Splinter said, turning.

And he promptly stumbled.

Before he could so much as tip forward, Leo had an arm around his waist, and he lowered his master gently to the couch. In a flash, Raph and Mikey had joined them.

"Master Splinter?"

"I am fine," he replied, meeting the blue-banded turtle's eyes solemnly. "But I fear your brother is not."

-==OOO==-

"Don?" Elsie asked gently.

In a corner of the lab, the turtle cowered, pulling himself as far under the desk as possible. No one had noticed he was awake, in spite of the drugs in his system, until he had bounded from the table in a blind panic.

"Donnie, man, it's okay! It's just us!" Randy called hopefully.

"What's he saying?" Craven asked, still putting a healthy margin between himself and the turtle lost in his own mind. At his question, all five humans fell silent to listen.

"…Master…Master…help me…in my mind again…can't fight it…my brothers…" As he whimpered, Donatello rocked back and forth, clutching his head.

"He's almost conscious!" Nick realized. "That drug must have helped to subvert the embryo Bishop implanted somehow."

"Yeah, but for now long?" Elsie asked. "He's fighting for control now. That compound won't last long against his metabolism, and when it stops working, we'll have a real problem."

"Then it is time," Monique said, turning and leaving the room, her stride tight and angry.

"What do you…?" Randy tried to call after her, but she was gone.

"Guys!" Nick exclaimed.

Donatello had gone quiet and still. He was no longer rocking back and forth, and no longer speaking. Nick slowly began to approach the turtle.

And suddenly found himself in Godzilla's mind.

"Parent!"

Nick felt a surge of something at the edge of their mental bond and realized that whatever Bishop was doing had been ratcheted up into overdrive. His mutant charge was barely holding his own against the intrusion, and even then, Nick could sense what he was blocking out. Images of himself accompanied feelings of "bad" and "enemy." Images of the turtles as "danger." And mostly, images of Bishop as a parent, giving orders, deserving obedience and loyalty.

"Fight it Godzilla!" Nick shouted, pushing his own will and determination into their bond, everything else forgotten. Made bold by the tightness of their connection, Nick himself lent some of his energy to blocking out Bishop's influence. It was as if the two of them were leaning against a dam, keeping it from shattering inward and bringing a torrent with it.

Then danger flashed, and neither Nick nor Godzilla could immediately identify the source. Out of nowhere, Nick was slammed back into himself so violently he fell backwards into a counter, his head reeling and Godzilla bellowing in his lair below. But what had woken him was obvious enough at first sight.

Donatello, eyes red, had come out from under the desk and was taking on an offensive posture.

"Donnie, it's me! Nick! Your friend," Nick slid along the counter until he could back away a little. He could feel his own fear, and Godzilla's, but he also felt oddly paralyzed, as though everything was coming to him on delay. It took him a moment to realize that he and Godzilla were both still pushing against Bishop's intrusion into their bond, and for as long as they were both distracted this way, neither of them would really be present enough for much action. It was like reacting in a dream – slow, after the fact.

And a moment later, but a moment too late, Nick registered Donatello springing towards him.


	21. Phase Three

Yays! This now has become my longest story ever! If you're me, that's a pretty neat accomplishment. And we're not even done yet! I still have plenty of pain and suffering to inflict on our boys (and girls). No worries.

I'm glad people have been enjoying this. This one's for everybody who has said such encouraging things to me along the way!

(Blah blah blah pretend I put the proper disclaimer in here blah blah blah)

Enjoy!

* * *

"What's happening?" Raph bellowed as he rounded a corner so quickly he almost rolled the truck.

"Donatello touched my mind in panic," Splinter said fiercely. Beside him, Leonardo could barely keep his seat, not from his brother's driving, but from his agitation.

"But what's happening to him?" Mikey asked between squealing turns

"I do not know. Only that he was aware for a moment that his mind was being invaded from without, that he was sinking beneath its influence. The sense of malevolence growing in his mind as a shadow taking form was the last impression I had of him."

"Shell," Raph growled almost inaudibly. He pushed the accelerator even farther, using every trick he'd ever picked up driving in the city to move more quickly. This was not a time for stealth, for practicing invisibility on roofs and the tops of bridges. This was a time he would sacrifice just about anything to get to their destination even a moment sooner. He couldn't say why, exactly, and he wasn't dialed into Donatello's brain the way Master Splinter was, but there was something ominous in his own heart nonetheless.

"Go faster, Raph," Leo said, as if reading his thoughts. "Before it's too late."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he replied. Hitting an open stretch, the red-clad turtle slammed the ridiculous extra-speedy propulsion system Don had installed, and for once, didn't cheer with the thrill of the rush he got from it. There was no rush this time.

He couldn't say how he knew, but they had to arrive soon, or else.

-==OOO==-

"It's got to be Bishop!" Elsie called, ducking to one side. But she needn't have bothered – Donatello followed only Nick, his whole feral being intent on the doctor. "The psychological conditioning has reversed the paternal bonds, so now the clones hate Nick as much as Godzilla cares about him!"

Nick made a quick turn, sliding like a baseball player across the slick floor towards the chaotic "homey" end of the lab. Even half-possessed and still drugged, the turtle reacted with surprising speed, following him after only a moment of being carried by his own momentum. Nick spared a glance at the workstation he'd so recently abandoned. Another dose of the neuro-depressant was already mixed. The syringe wasn't filled, but if he could get to the compound…

"Look out!" Randy's voice rang out.

Before Nick could even register the warning, a form dropped on him, pinning him to the floor. Enraged, red eyes bored into his as thick fingers curled around his throat and began to push. Nick fought for air, suddenly aware that Godzilla, always his rescue, always there before the worst quite happened, was not going to make it in time. The lizard hadn't even been able to break his own physical paralysis yet; the impact of Bishop in his mind was too great.

"Monique!" Mendel gasped at the weapon the Frenchwoman carried as she reentered the room, briskly setting it on a table and taking aim. It was not one of the guns designed to subdue or tranquilize. This was lethal, and strong enough to penetrate even Donatello's shell at this range. Elsie ran up, but Monique casually threw a stool at her and knocked her to the ground without even pausing. The red-head shouted even as she fell.

"You can't!"

"I must!" Monique grit her teeth as she took aim. There was no time, not one moment to spare for regret or apology. Either Donatello or Nick would die, and Monique had chosen.

"NO!"

Green was everywhere. Monique pulled the trigger, only to realize that a sai was lodged in the firing mechanism. By the time she had gripped its handle to clear the gun, a turtle was beside her, nunchaku swinging. Michelangelo expertly struck the firearm in three places, then turned to the shooter, his eyes alight and fierce with anger.

"Don't you dare hurt my brother!"

"Then save Nick!" she shouted.

"Already on it!" came another voice.

Where Donatello had pinned the doctor, two more turtles had appeared. They grabbed an arm each and started to pull. Nick had stopped moving, and both brothers were shouting, she realized belatedly, in an odd mix of English and Japanese. Monique moved an inch to the side, but Michelangelo was there still, and he shifted his stance in warning.

"Let them do it."

And then there was a soft grunt and Donatello collapsed. From the shadows of the three turtles across the room, a wizened rat appeared, his fingers still expertly locked on the pressure points at the throat. Leonardo and Raphael pulled their brother gently to the ground while Elsie raced forward.

"Nick!"

"He will be all right," Splinter said softly, who had released Don and was taking the young man's pulse. "For all his strength, my son did no lasting damage." The turtles' sensei looked down at the marks on the scientist's exposed neck, his forehead furrowing. Certainly, Donatello had appeared to be choking the life out of the man, and uninterrupted, he might have succeeded, but if that were his true aim, he was a poor assassin indeed. Splinter turned to where Donatello lay on the floor, quiet and still.

"What do you mean?" Mendel asked, moving forward cautiously with the first-aid kit in hand.

"Observe the bruises," the ninja master replied. Elsie and Craven both peered at the angry coloring spreading across the pale skin. "Ugly to behold, and yet the marks correspond to the only places on the human throat that can withstand pressure without risk of harm. If my son had put his strength here," and he pointed to the windpipe, "he could have crushed the doctor's airway permanently in a moment. Had he focused his rage here," and he pointed to a spot on the throat just under the jaw, "he would have cut off the blood to his brain and caused a quick death. He did neither."

"Master, are you saying Don somehow didn't kill him on purpose?" Raph asked, his voice legitimately shaking. He stayed where he was, his knees under his brother's shoulders and head, his hands on the shoulders that were still.

"The clone tried to kill Nick," Leo said, standing up, trying to return to command and mostly succeeding. "Don must have had some measure of control, and he stopped it. Even from inside his head, he probably saved Nick's life."

"Yeah, that's all well and good, but what about her?" Mikey said, his voice as dark as his family had ever heard it. Several heads swung around to see where the youngest turtle was still crouched in an aggressive posture. He had not stopped spinning his weapons, nor had he moved a step from Monique. "She tried to kill Donnie!"

"I did only what I gave my word I would do," she said evenly, almost softly. "I warned you that if your brother posed a risk I would eliminate him. I am not sorry for that. I am, however, pleased it was not necessary." She stood stiffly.

"I understand your caution," Master Splinter turned his eyes to her, and they were proud and hard, "but if you raise a weapon to my son again, I will not forgive so easily." His tail flicked with anger. "We shall not leave his side again, so your vigilance will not be necessary. In your place, I may have done the same, but in mine, I believe you would feel as I do now."

"Perhaps." Monique did not lower her head, but there was reconciliation in her tone. Michelangelo looked at her angrily, but at last he stepped away from her and moved to join his brothers.

The next few minutes were a flurry of first aid and motion. Nick was moved to the couch to rest, a warm compress put on the worst of his bruising. Donatello was returned to the table and again strapped down, and the wounds he had acquired in the fight, which were numerous though slight, tended. Monique did not approach the turtles at all, aware that their eyes were on her every moment, and she instead tended to her weaponry. However, the aim of both turtles had been true – the firearm was not salvageable after the damage by sai and nunchaku. The room was eerily quiet, emotions running high. Rage, fear, betrayal, loyalty, all seemed to bounce around the space, unspoken, but present.

The watchers could do nothing but wait for Nick and Don to wake, hoping that both would return to consciousness as themselves and not lost in the violence of the minds that seemed to beckon them even in sleep.

-==OOO==-

"Yes, that's right. Sleep now. When you wake up, daddy has some important trials for you," Bishop smiled at the last of the misshapen creatures before him. As one, they retreated to the holding containers, the test tubes from which they had been born, and curled up to rest. Bishop locked down the cells as he made a few final notes in his logs.

"So far, this experiment has been within acceptable parameters," he looked back at the creatures. "The accelerated growth process, while distorting them from their original source, seems to have produced sufficient intelligence as well as the physical attributes intended to manifest in the primary subjects. By my estimates, it will take several months for them to grow to full size, and I suspect many of them will die prior to reaching heights above 10 feet. As of now, each subject measures 4 feet, 2 inches tall, with proportional length and weight."

Moving away from the computer, he continued to address the open logbook. He put a hand almost fondly on one of the containers as he peered at the sleeping creature within.

"The subjects are somewhat resistant to my behavioral programming, but the addition of a neuro-depressant has made them more susceptible. It is unsurprising that they are naturally willful, so the compounds in their diets are essential to maintaining control. Once influence has been established, however, subjects are showing greater abilities to obey basic commands."

The agent shifted his position to a different container, this one marked with a red stripe.

"The alpha subjects, the control group, unmodified from the original genetic blueprint, is less malleable to introduced commands without chemical assistance than their updated cousins. Those clones in the beta group that were subjected to my intelligence enhancers need very little in the way of drugs before they accept the programming I introduced. It is my speculation that the alpha group will submit only after significant dosages. However, even they eventually accept myself as their surrogate parent. The beta group, on the other hand, have become completely my creations, obedient dogs to their master."

Turning back to the computer, Bishop pulled up a sub-file labeled "Terrapin Host."

"The theta group, those embryos not injected with the growth accelerant, are proceeding according to an exponential curve as expected. Subject 001, as implanted into the turtle Donatello, is likely progressing at a slightly slower rate due to its physical situation, but it can be expected to have grown with similar dimensions to the rest of its group. The embryos are beginning to show interesting signs of activity within an early-developing neural center, as if their brains are awake prior to being fully formed. I can only speculate as to whether this effect is occurring within my mobile subject."

A dark smile twisted across his face, and Bishop made a note.

"By now, the embryos from the theta group are large enough to be causing my turtle friend significant discomfort. If he were present, I would be fascinated to witness what the impact of the foreign body is to his systems. As it is, I expect Donatello, and therefore his entire faction, are distracted enough that they will not pose much risk for interference."

To close out the entry, Bishop pulled up the tallies for review.

"Theta group, including subject 001, remains static at 25 subjects. Alpha group of unmodified clones has decreased to only 75 active and functional subjects after the loss of two more from dosage experimentation while determining proper compounds to enforce behavioral control. Beta group, my primary subjects, numbers the original 100 subjects, all functioning as well as expected, all having accepted mental programming."

Exiting the report, the agent looked across the room at the sea of containers. Teaching the clones to accept his authority was a slow process, as he only dared work with them in relatively small numbers. The alpha group had proved the most difficult – he'd been required to drug them significantly before subjecting them to the most extreme and direct method of imprinting himself on their brains. But now that all subjects had been woken and showed little rebellion, the only displayed coming from his alpha group as he expected, which was very quickly punished and his control reestablished, he felt he could move ahead with phase three.

"Now that you all agree that I am your master, let's find out what you can do against something you perceive as an enemy."

-==OOO==-

Donatello was floating.

"What happened?" he spoke into the bizarre void around him. It reminded him of the state where he got so tired he couldn't stay asleep anymore, waking himself every hour for his mind to grumble at him about how it was too tired to sleep. He fought to remember how he had gotten so tired, but all that came back to him was the image of his family surrounding him, concern on their faces. There was nothing after that.

"Well, logically," he considered, feeling oddly happy that he could think so clearly, as if it had been a while since his mind had moved at the pace he was accustomed to, "something happened. Given our recent experiences, I'd say the thing in my head linked itself to a particular neural connection in my brain. So where am I now?"

As if in answer, the dark void around him dissolved into images. They were cluttered and blended one into the next, but he could pick out himself, Godzilla, and Bishop amidst swirling colors and formations that reminded him of storms on other planets as seen from space. He noticed that every time he focused on a certain portion of the image, the whole thing shifted, as if tainted by whatever he was investigating.

"Since the last time I was anywhere like this I was in Godzilla's mind, I guess my own mind is sitting somewhere in the middle of the collectiveness of Godzilla with the clones. But the size of this…there must be a lot of clones for the presence to be this big. That's not good."

Donatello focused on the part of the image that was himself, and he was not surprised to find something rise up next to himself, an image of Godzilla, though a little distorted. "That's the clone in my head," he considered. "And if I'm here, that means it's on the surface of my brain, whereas I'm the one that's being buried. We've swapped control, and now the clone has sort of become my consciousness and I'm the unconscious. I bet Freud would have something to say about that."

Don fought for a while, trying every trick he knew and a few he invented on the spot, to try to dislodge the foreign entity from barring his way back to himself, but nothing worked.

"Maybe," he considered, "if I can't supplant it, at least I can influence it."

Without knowing quite what he was doing, he set himself to try to change the presence before him. He knew he was making traction when the swirling images took on new colors – instead of sickly yellow and angry red, they transmuted to cooler shades of purple and green. He still had no idea what was going on outside himself, but maybe this would help. He wished for the kind of mind-control where he could see through his own eyes; then, though he still wouldn't be able to change what was happening, at least he'd know. This was more like trying to drive a car while being locked in the trunk.

And on the edges of the space he had claimed as his own, Donatello could also sense a gathering storm. His ability to influence the embryo became more and more limited as the yellow and red seemed to leech in from somewhere else. The ninja remembered his thoughts about the number of clones Bishop must have created, and his heart sank.

"If he's got too many clones, my brain in the mix is going to be a drop in the bucket before too long. And at some point, so will Godzilla's. I don't know how many there are, but there must be more than we thought, and they're like an army, conquering the field of shared consciousness one inch at a time. If they get the whole battlefield, though, it won't just be me that goes down, it'll be Godzilla, too." His resolve hardened.

"I can't fight them all. But I can try to fight this one, maybe cut it off from the rest of the collective, at least a little. And if I ever wake up," he felt determination flood through him, "I'm taking them all down no matter what it does to my brain. Every single clone. Or it won't just be me that's destroyed in the process, but everybody Bishop hates, too. Including my family."

-==OOO==-

"How is he?" Raphael asked gruffly, leaning over the prone body of his brother. Donatello looked a bit like death warmed over. His face was completely slack, not the peace of being asleep, but numb even to that. His skin had shifted from its usual olive-green to something worryingly close to grey. Almost absently, Raph rubbed at some of the dried blood that had congealed on his beak.

"We think he's in a coma," Elsie said gently looking up from her desk. "We didn't drug him enough to put him out like this. The strain on his brain is enormous. It probably just shut down when it couldn't cope."

"You're wrong," Leo said suddenly. All eyes in the room turned to him. Nick, who had woken not long after the fight, met the blue-banded turtle's eyes and then looked away. It had been hours, and HEAT had nothing new to report besides that they were still trying. But every minute saw the hope of trying trickle away, until even the scientists were starting to wonder if there was any purpose in what they were attempting anyway. The longer they waited, the worse the chances for Don's recovery now that things had progressed so far.

"What do you mean?" Monique asked. She had kept her distance since the fight, knowing that she was officially persona-non-grata with the mutant family. Even Nick had been angry with her when he'd learned of her actions, though he hadn't said anything. But the other turtles and their master had not once turned their back to her, and she could read in the eyes of the rat a certain threat – if she so much as approached them wrong, he was prepared to do whatever it took to defend his sons.

"It's Don." Leo stood from where he'd been in a deep trance and moved to the table. Michelangelo untangled himself from the playing-card fort he'd been building, the only way he could keep out of everyone's way, and followed.

"How do you figure?" Raph asked. Unlike his eldest brother who had mostly been meditating, and Mikey, who was playing, and HEAT, who seemed to be accordingly working or glowering in the corner, Raph had wandered. He would sit by Don's side for a while, then stalk off in a rage, march to the roof, run through some brutal katas until exhausted, stand at the edge of the dock until he was cool, return to his brother, and repeat the process. He just couldn't do nothing, and yet there was nothing he could do.

"I've been trying to reach him," Leo said, "but there's just too much in the way."

"Too much what?" Mikey wanted to know.

"I'm not sure. Interference. Like static on the phone line. Master Splinter knows more than I do," he gestured to where their father kept up his vigil, watching over them all in silence. "But the point is that it was Don who kept himself from hurting the doctor earlier. It wasn't us. And it sure wasn't Bishop."

"Agreed," Nick nodded.

"So think about it. If Bishop had that much control over Donatello through the thing in his head, wouldn't he want to have Don awake and fighting? But he doesn't. So I think that means something is stopping him from having that control. And that something is Don."

"It is also plausible that he doesn't know about this at all," Dr Craven pointed out from across the lab. "The knowledge of the bond between Godzilla and Nick isn't what you would call common. Normal clones that you just cook up in a lab don't have a shared consciousness; they exist separately just like anything else. It's only Godzilla that makes this a problem at all. If Bishop doesn't know they're interconnected, he wouldn't have any way of knowing Don is connected, too."

"That's true," Elsie conceded, "but I think Leo is right anyway. Even if Bishop didn't know he had that power, he'd still be programming whatever clones he does have to attack. So Don would still be attacking. But he's not."

"So what do we do?" Mikey asked.

"There's not much we can do at this stage," Nick sighed, standing and joining them. "Don's body is busy keeping itself stable and healthy, and his mind is…well, doing whatever it's doing. All we can do for now is keep on the path we set and try to come up with something to help him."

"That ain't good enough!" Raph exploded, punching the table near Don's shoulder with enough force to dent it. "There's gotta be something else!"

"Raph…" Leo cautioned.

"No, I'm done sittin' around waitin' for somebody else to help Donnie. We can't just sit here no more, Leo!"

"What do you suggest?" he snarled back. "Whip up a cure ourselves? Go begging to Bishop again? Cut into his brain with my katana? Face it, Raph – this is not the sort of problem any of us can handle without help."

"Well I sure as shell ain't askin' Bishop for help again," Raph growled. "But if these brainiacs can't fix Don, maybe we need to get him to somebody who can!"

"Who, Raph? Who can do a better job than these guys?" Leo demanded. He met his brother's blazing eyes unflinchingly, and as expected, he wasn't the one to break the contact.

"Yeah, okay, I get it. But I hate it!" and he pounded the table again.

"Hey guys?" Mikey said. He was very much ignored.

"I know you do," Leo said sincerely. "I do, too. It's like before. I keep turning to Don to ask him what we're going to do this time, but I can't. All we can do is trust our friends. Don's friends."

"Guys?"

"Shell, Leo, why's it always gotta be Don?" Raph's voice deflated. "You know what I would'a given to trade places with him?"

"Hello, guys?"

"I know," Leo put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'd have done the same."

"Guys!" Michelangelo shouted, jumping between them.

"What?" they turned on him.

"We've got a problem!"

"Indeed," Monique had already left her perch and was moving towards the area she kept her own equipment.

"What's going on?" Mendel squeaked, looking around quickly.

"Listen!" Mikey held up a hand. There was no sound out of the ordinary to human ears, but the other ninjas stiffened with recognition. At the same time, Splinter turned to his sons.

"Bishop has returned, and he is not alone," he stated. "Engage him, defend this place. I shall stay with Donatello. Do not permit him entrance." The three bowed to him and practically vanished where they stood, their ninja instincts on full alert.

"Bishop?" Randy asked, finally moving from the console that had held his attention for unbroken hours.

"_Oui_," Monique said, loading up some of her preferred weaponry. "I am surprised you have not sensed the intrusion," she looked at Nick.

Nick reached into his mind for Godzilla, noticing again as he did so the muted presence in his mind. Godzilla was still holding out against whatever Bishop had done, and the constant barrage had apparently begun to take its toll. On some level, the mutant lizard was aware of an intruder in his territory, but on every level that mattered, he was primarily aware of the battle in his mind, and the headache that was its after-effect. As when Don had attacked him hours before, he was nearly paralyzed physically by the activity in his mind.

"He knows," Nick admitted aloud, "but he's too distracted to do anything. I guess we're on our own."

"Fine with me." And Monique stalked to the door.

-==OOO==-

"What is that thing?" Mikey whispered.

"Looks like a mini-Godzilla," Leo replied softly.

"That little thing is a clone of Godzilla," Raph scoffed. "It's puny."

"It's also probably radioactive and can spit fire," Leo reminded them, "so be cautious. We're just going to sneak over and eliminate it. Nothing fancy."

The three had used the rooftop to survey the area, but the only immediate threat appeared to be a shorter-than-themselves clone of Godzilla, apparently hunting. But they also couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. Visibility was limited by the dark of night and the lack of lights, and they didn't dare wander too far in search of more threats. They exchanged glances.

"Dinner for a week says that ain't the only one out here," Mikey finally voiced what they were all thinking.

"Then we take 'em all out," Raphael snarled. And jumped to engage the mutant.

As soon as he appeared within the clone's field of vision, the smaller, contorted version of Godzilla roared and charged, wicked teeth gleaming. However, it lacked the grace of its original counterpart, not to mention the size, and Raph easily sidestepped the attack. A practiced strike with a sai left the clone shrieking as a cut opened up along the side of its oversized head.

"I don't think this thing likes you," Mikey quipped as he dropped beside his brother.

"It shouldn't. I told it not to," came Bishop's voice. He appeared under one of the straggling area lights, smirking. "Apparently these clones are pretty good students."

"Ignore him," Leo cut off the remark the hotheaded turtle was about to deploy. "He's just trying to draw our attention from the lab." And he pointed to several more shapes making their way towards the building unchecked. "We've got to keep them away from the others."

"Yeah, but," Michelangelo took a swing at one, which bounced backwards but came back for another round, "these guys are pretty persistent."

"Then take them down. Whatever you've got to do." His eyes narrowed. "These are the same things that are hurting Donatello," he growled. The rage that had started to boil weeks prior, the pent-up fury of watching his brother fade and suffer, of seeing his brother once again reduced to something mindless because of Bishop flowed to the surface like a lake after a broken dam. He'd heard HEAT state that the clones had to be eliminated, all of them, to save his brother. Whether it went against his personal code or not, if annihilation would help Don, he would not hesitate to kill. With a precise swipe of katana, he sliced into the throat of a nearby clone.

The screams came from everywhere.


	22. Contingencies

I think it might at last be becoming clear why I titled this story "Resonance;" I promise it wasn't just a whim. Sorry this one is short, but it's a fun place to leave things.

If I owned any of these guys, you can believe this story would have been animated!

Enjoy!

* * *

They screamed.

Outside and underwater and within his lair, Godzilla slammed back and forth in the shallow water as if he could drive the pain out with more pain. He was thrashing in the cavern, heedless of what his clawed feet struck or the waves he created far above. But he was well away from the shipping lanes or the land, and thus his tearing and rending of the water was mostly harmless.

Inside, Nick had dropped like a stone, his knees simply buckling under him as he fell. Curling into fetal position, the scientist wrapped his arms around his head as if he was warding off blows. He shook as he rolled back and forth, his throat rough and ragged as his agony forced its way through his lungs in a verbal display.

Donatello jerked on the table, his body rocking as if in a seizure. He made a gargling noise, as if he were screaming through water, and blood trickled from his nose and eyes like red, broken tears.

"What's happening?" Mendel shouted, running to Nick.

"My sons have killed a clone of Godzilla," Splinter replied, moving not towards the human but to the turtle.

"How do you know that?" Randy wanted to know as he skidded to a stop beside the fallen doctor.

"It is of no consequence. But apparently their joined minds bring shared pain as well," the sensei called back, again finding a pressure point on Donatello's neck and arresting his movements with its use. "If they continue to fight, Dr Tatopoulos will likely continue to suffer."

"Nick!" Elsie called. She'd scarcely ever moved as fast as from the moment he'd fallen; she cradled his head on her knees and gripped his shoulders fiercely, as though she could pull him out of the pain that claimed him. "What do we do?"

"F…fight," the fallen scientist gasped around his pain. "Stop them…no matter…what."

"There is your answer," Splinter said. "And now I must ask you to trust me."

"What?" Mendel looked at the rat in confusion.

"You must hide yourselves." Splinter moved to where the three crouched around Nick. "If my senses do not lie, we are soon to be swamped with enemies, and my family and I may not be able to defend this lab for long. You must be ready to flee if the battle goes against us."

"What about you?" Randy asked, eyes wide.

"We are ninja. We shall vanish. With Donatello in his current state, we cannot take you all with us in safety. He is enough to carry in silence and secret."

"The HEAT-Seeker," Elsie said brusquely. "If we can get to it without Bishop noticing us, we could always take off in that. And once we're on the water, if Godzilla is okay…"

"There'd be no way Bishop could get us," Craven finished.

"Then go. Take the doctor there without drawing attention if it can be managed. If Bishop assumes you are within the lab, he will concentrate his attack here and an opportunity to escape may present itself. Here." The rat reached forward and grasped the back of Nick's neck firmly. A moment later, the spasms stopped.

"What did you do?" Elsie wanted to know.

"I have temporarily relieved him of consciousness. He will awaken in moments, but this should provide you the opportunity to move him without drawing as much attention to yourselves." Splinter helped them get Nick's weight distributed between the three of them, Elsie and Randy each supporting his shoulders and waist, Mendel carrying his feet.

"When you have him on-board your boat, hide for as long as is plausible. If the battle turns in our favor, I trust you will know what to do. If it does not, you must escape." Splinter took a breath. "Donatello needs your assistance if he is to return to us. My sons will buy your escape by whatever means necessary to ensure your safety."

Elsie and Mendel began to shuffle towards the door away from the fight, but were stopped by Randy who was not yet moving. The hacker stared at the wizened rat, who had turned from them and was instead taking up a position across from Donatello, who was again beginning to stir. The diamond-hard look in the sensei's face had shaken him.

"But, Master Splinter, what's gonna happen to you and Don and the others?"

"If all goes well, we shall not require you to escape at all," he replied, meeting the young man's eyes evenly. "If not, our best chance for survival will be to find you again under better circumstances. Donatello believed in you all, believed that you more than myself or my family could save him from this. I must do the same."

"Randy, come on!" Elsie grunted. If they ever got out of this, she was definitely telling Nick to go on a diet. He seemed as heavy as Godzilla. But fear was giving her adrenaline, and with it, the strength she needed. Randy turned back to her and as one the trio began the long trip to the HEAT-Seeker.

Randy didn't look back at Splinter, but he could not get the words out of his mind. How much must the turtles and their father trust HEAT that they would put themselves at great risk to ensure the team could escape? And at what cost to themselves? Randy was barely aware of the trip to the Seeker, of ducking behind things to avoid detection, of climbing to the upper platform to access the deck directly rather than climbing the side-ladder, of dropping Nick gently to the floor of the pilot-house and groaning with the soreness in his shoulders. Somehow, none of it mattered.

"I think he's coming around," Craven said quietly, seeing Nick begin to twitch in earnest. He and Elsie grabbed a life-jacket and pushed it under Nick's head, watching him worriedly. But Randy turned away.

"Take care of him," he said. "I'm gonna go help Monique."

"Randy, what?" Elsie hissed at him.

"She needs to know where we are, and so do the turtles. And she probably needs help out there. You guys stay with Nick. If you have to run, run." Randy stepped out of the door and closed it behind him before he could change his mind. He crawled down the side of the HEAT-Seeker's ladder and crept across the inner dock as quietly as he could. Along the way, he picked up a baseball-bat-sized piece of pipe. Instead of giving away their location by simply rounding the dock, though, he went back inside the lab.

Donnie was definitely awake now, as evidenced by the convulsions shaking the turtle. He jerked wildly, grunting and flinching as though he were under physical attack. Across from him, Splinter sat, his face completely calm, lost to the world around him. Randy stared at them both for a minute before again gathering his courage and stepping out the same door Monique had used.

The scene below was chaos. Three turtles stood amidst a crowd of Godzilla clones, dozens of them, all of which were quick to attack and quicker to recover after a blow. Monique stood off to one side, guarding against any intrusion into the lab with all her strength. Nearby, bathed in flickering light, Bishop watched.

Randy bounded to Monique's side, sweeping away a clone as he went, surprised by the shock of hitting the creature, its solid bones causing his own arms to reverberate in response to the strike. He met her eyes briefly, then glanced in the direction of the dock where the HEAT-Seeker waited, and nodded. She apparently got the message, for while nothing in her stance changed, her focus shifted slightly. She kept up guarding the lab directly from intrusion, but if any clones started moving towards that part of the building, she would be aware.

Mission one accomplished, Randy charged into the fray fully, making a break for the three turtles who were fighting more grimly than he'd witnessed on the island. As he drew near to Leonardo, he came up with a stupid, crazy plan.

"Bishop!" he shouted, brandishing the pipe. With a wild yell, he charged the agent. He wasn't even within striking-range when Bishop was suddenly there in front of him. Then there was the sensation of a boot on his chin and he was flying backwards, his head screaming at the kick he'd received. He hit the ground and rolled slightly before coming to a limp stop.

"Randy!" Leo yelled, cutting down a clone and jumping to his defense. Randy got to his knees before the turtle hauled him to his feet. As the hacker allowed his head to clear, he whispered as softly as he could manage.

"We're in the HEAT-Seeker. Don and your dad are still in the lab. We're gonna run if we have to."

The words had an immediate effect on Leonardo. Randy could practically see the wheels turning inside the ninja's mind, and after a heartbeat he nodded. With only the barest glance of gratitude, Leo gave Randy a shove in the direction of Monique, telling him to "stick to rear-guard," and instead repositioning himself in the battle. Randy marveled at how the turtles seemed to read each other. When Leo took up a new position, Michelangelo and Raphael did as well, and this new configuration, Randy noticed, was a little more spread. Still they could guard the whole building, but now one turtle was in-reach of the dock that led to the Seeker. Like Monique, they had read the plan from his mind and reacted to it.

Satisfied that his work was done, Randy returned to Monique's side, still clutching his pipe. He took up a defensive position next to her and waited for the next clone to attack.

"That was foolish," she told him wryly.

"I know. But I've always wanted to be a tragic hero," he joked back. Then he thought about everyone else, the situation they were in, and what was on the line, and his smile faded to a grim line of determination. "Besides, if this is the only thing I can do to help these guys save all our lives, then I'm gonna do it, no matter what."

Randy never caught Monique's startled, and approving, expression; he was too busy swinging angrily at the next clone that came into view.

"Very well," she nodded, her usual cool demeanor restored.

As one, they defended their position, and waited for the next blow to come.

-==OOO==-

The paths of the mind were often complex and labyrinthine, but Splinter was an old hand at walking them even in times of great turmoil. His own inner unbalance he kept firmly locked down, bound against interfering with his task. There could only be steadiness, security, serenity. Anything else brought to light in this place and his own fears would materialize around him, and he could not waste time defeating them here. He had already tried several times that night to accomplish this same end, but now he had a burning motivation beyond what had been before. Now it was more than just Donatello's mind at risk; it was the lives of all of his sons. This gave him clarity and mental strength he had rarely tapped before. He tapped it in its entirety now.

To his inner eye, the space that was the astral plane looked as it always did, foggy and yet solid, taking on the shapes of places he had seen or imagined and merging them with the unimaginable until the landscape was eerily familiar and yet alien. Beneath his feet, a grey path stretched to the horizon, and he knew if he followed it backwards it would lead him to his body.

With a silent command, Splinter used his new-found force of will to adjust the land around him. Now, running near to his own lifeline were four others, each the color of his corresponding son, each woven together even as they were separate. The blue path was arrow-straight alongside his own, steady and strong, with only a few aberrations before ultimately returning to an independent but similar echo of the grey that had come first. The orange path was vibrant but a little erratic, curving and weaving with jagged irregularity, though it still moved ultimately forward alongside the others. The red ran close to the blue and orange, but veering in its own direction, drawn back time and again, but always arcing widely to its own space where it seemed to burn the very ground intensely beneath it.

But it was to the purple path Splinter turned his attention. This one also ran alongside those belonging to its brothers, and not directly correlating to his own, and as he focused upon it, its purple color began to fragment into many shades and hues. The color was almost jewel-like in its multifaceted complexity. It was also brilliant in the dimness of the astral plane, like its three companions, as present as Splinter's own grey road that was more solid than the ground upon which it rested. But as he gazed deeply beneath the surface, he could see that the purple indicated a consciousness that was unusual in its capacity and scope and potential, potential that seemed to shimmer with the ghost of blue and orange and red and grey and a few other hidden colors, influenced and driven to such heights not only by an inner light, but by a demanding loyalty to others.

Splinter set off along his own path, keeping the purple firmly within his sights. It was not long before he found what he was looking for. A dark stripe appeared seemingly out of nowhere and intersected all five of the paths, then moved off ominously, but after that moment of contact, the purple path bore a stripe of sickly yellow. To Splinter's horror, the yellow stretching forward was growing, and in the foggy distance, seemed to encompass the purple entirely. Here, then, was where he must act. He had reached this point many times in the past few hours, but not until this moment had he been certain his strength would succeed in what he had no choice but to attempt.

Splinter centered himself, creating with his will a tangible rope from the path on which he stood to wrap around his waist tightly. He had never yet gotten lost within the astral plane, even those times he and his sons had ventured far afield from themselves. But he was not willing to risk disorientation that might delay his return to himself if his task was unsuccessful, for if he failed, his sons would need him at once.

"I am coming, my son," the rat said to the purple path. Then, he stepped from his own onto the purple, exactly at the point where the sickly yellow stripe had appeared within the mind of his son, and willed himself entrance.

At once, images and feelings washed over him and he fell into their depths. The paths, the astral plane itself, all vanished in a cyclone of confusing images and sensations. The ache of extreme pain swirled around him, an outside control ghosted across him, and the desperate fear of his son struck him like lightning. Splinter reached out his hands, touching the whirling chaos and grasping at the ethereal wind that was at once sand, scales, water, blood, and thought.

"Donatello!" he called into the abyss. He was not afraid, for fear would only complicate and confuse his focus, but he was concerned. He could not act here alone – his son's presence and mind were too strong for him to manipulate unaided.

"Father?" came a whimper from everywhere.

"My son, I am here. You must hear me and be calm," he soothed. The maelstrom shifted, slowed slightly. Sickly yellow tendrils took advantage of the slowing momentum to expand themselves, and a cry of pain sounded from every direction.

"Sensei, I can't!"

"You can, Donatello. Your mind is still your own. Follow me, my son, and join me here." If he had been on the mortal plane, he would have held his breath. If he was to be successful at all, it was dependent upon the skill of his son and not himself in this moment.

An eternity later, a pale version of the purple that was Donatello's path seemed to leak out of the tornado in which Splinter floated. Slowly, hesitantly, the purple coalesced until it was the form of a turtle, curled in on himself even as it hung in the space across from the rat's own presence.

"My son, do not fear," Splinter reached out a grey paw to touch the domed, shaking forehead.

"M-Master Splinter?" Donatello's voice gained strength and his form resolved in a flash to his usual green appearance, complete with his bo. "What happened?"

"You have become overwhelmed by the invader in your mind," his father said. "Your brothers are under attack, and your friend the doctor is incapacitated. You are needed."

"Father, how are we even here?" the ever-curious turtle asked.

"We can discuss this later," Splinter smiled fondly at his son. "For now, you must return to yourself and help them."

"But if I've been overwhelmed, how can I…?"

"I will assist you from here. I cannot remove it physically from your body, but I may be able to block its psychic impact. If I remain here to restrain it, you may be able to regain consciousness."

"Father," the turtle's face collapsed in worry, "what will that do to you?"

"Nothing compared to what Bishop will do to us all if he succeeds," Splinter replied. In the quiet of his own mind, he felt warmth spread through him – the concern and love of his sons was precious indeed. "My son, take what little relief I can offer you and assist them as only you can. This is not a battle that can be won by skill and stealth alone. It will require science, and in that, I know I may rely upon you entirely."

"Yes, sensei," Donatello executed a perfect bow. Splinter realized all at once that his son had done something it had taken him half of a lifetime to perfect, this physical manifestation on the astral in spite of severe impediments from within. He quietly marveled at his son's intellectual and spiritual flexibility.

"Go quickly. I will remain here as long as I can."

"I won't fail you, father," the turtle promised. At Splinter's nod, Donatello closed his eyes and bowed his head. The astral body began to melt seamlessly into the purple-faceted color once more, this time its vibrancy fully restored. Like a zephyr of light, it circled Splinter once, then shot upwards out of the maelstrom, leaving Splinter within the collapsing eye of a yellow storm.

"Be safe, my son, and may you be victorious. I will not fail you, either, Donatello." Then Splinter turned his attention to the presence that remained, and stretched out his hands, his soul afire with the strength of a father's love. "You who have harmed my son shall not escape here to continue your evil for as long as I draw breath!"

And the battle for his gentlest son's mind began in earnest.

-==OOO==-

Donatello opened his eyes with only a trace of surprise that he was, in fact, awake. But as with other times in the astral plane, he remembered everything perfectly. Including what Master Splinter had warned him of when they had met within his mind – his brothers were in trouble! The sounds of combat outside the lab confirmed that analysis, and from what he could hear, he was already late to the party. Don moved slowly into a sitting position, ignoring the dizziness that struck. He had bigger concerns. Looking up, he could see his sensei sitting perfectly still in lotus-position on a nearby chair.

"Thank you, father," he said, bowing low from his seated position. Even though the rat was deep in meditation and unable to see the gesture, his son knew it would be felt nonetheless. Master Splinter was buying him an opportunity, and he was going to use it. The time for pain was over. Donatello pushed himself off the table, gathering his bo in a smooth movement, and felt his legs wobble, then strengthen under him.

"Enough is enough," he muttered to himself. "I've been infected, captured, operated on, mind-controlled, and banged up all to shell by Bishop. Time for a little payback."

The immense ache in his head remained, but the ninja chose to ignore it, implementing as many mental pain-blocks as his training could allow until it was reduced to a dull thudding. His brothers were out there, fighting for him, and he wasn't going to let them fight without him. But he also knew better than to just rush into the fray as he was – there was no telling if he would lose control again. However, for the first time in what felt like days, his mind was truly cool and clear, and he could act freely. His father had freed him, trusting him to find a solution, and he wasn't about to let his sensei and his family down.

"I need some kind of plan, some means to attack the control Bishop has, without actually hurting us." Don paced slightly, his thoughts beginning to spin with urgency as he considered. "We've never really beaten Bishop before, and we probably won't now, not the way we want to. We can fight him to a draw and force a retreat. But we need more than that. As long as his mutations are viable, he'll use them, and as long as he uses them, Nick and Godzilla and I are liabilities. But if I could expose the weaknesses in the mutations he has, he'll give up on them and go back to his hole to come up with a new plan."

Donatello flew through various situations that had incapacitated Godzilla, from tranquilizer mixes to tachyon mind-control, but nothing quite fit. Drugging the clones wouldn't help the situation, nor would gaining an even firmer control over them all – that would only prove Bishop's point too well. No, he needed something more targeted, something that would incapacitate without destroying, that would weaken without causing harm.

And then an idea began to form, a plan hatched, and Don smiled.


	23. Turning the Tide

Well, I'm back. I mean, I guess I didn't really go anywhere. There's just been a lot of medical stuff in the lives of people I care about, so keeping track of weekends hasn't really been on my radar. Thus, forgot to update for a while. Sorry!

Don't own the TMNT, Godzilla the Series crew, Whack-a-Mole, or anything else I missed in my quick scan of the chapter that would get me sued. Just to honor the best!

I hope this lives up to the expectations you've set forth. But no worries. Yet more to come ahead!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Any ideas?" Raph shouted over his shoulder to his brothers. Beside him, Leo took a wicked swipe at one of the clones, causing dark blood to flow and the creature to recoil in pain. Nearby, Mikey swept a clear area around him, only to have it fill in again with the seemingly endless waves of mini-Godzillas.

"Not yet!" Leo shouted back. He broke from the fight for a moment to regard the situation to their rear. No clones had gotten through yet, but the impact of their presence was definitely making itself known. Godzilla was nowhere to be seen, which was a sign that something was wrong with Nick in the hiding place HEAT had adopted aboard the HEAT-Seeker. Randy and Monique, grim-faced, were doing their part to keep the clones from reaching the lab or the dock. And somewhere beyond them Donatello was probably suffering the same pain that had broken his mind already.

"Well, think faster, Leo!" Mikey called. "Playing real-life Whack-A-Mole is starting to be less fun!"

"I know that," the leader growled more to himself than anything else. Across the pavement, Bishop stood, his coat flapping in the wind, smirking. There was nothing the turtle would have liked more than to forcibly remove that smug look of triumph from his enemy's face, but he couldn't leave his position. But their situation was bad, really bad – all they were doing was delaying Bishop's attack, not reflecting it or escaping it.

"We could really use Donnie right about now," Raph grunted as he punched a clone with the knuckle of his sai.

"You're telling me!" Mikey agreed.

Leo didn't say anything, but he felt the absence of his fourth turtle all the way to his toes. Their brother's calm head, his clever plans, his upbeat personality, Don could really turn the tide on this one. But he was dying, albeit very slowly, and lost in a world of pain, the same that consumed Nick just yards away. They were on their own. And it was all Bishop's fault. Rage burned in the eldest turtle then, and he turned his eyes back to their enemy, who laughed, easily reading the thoughts evidenced in his expression.

"For all your strength," Bishop taunted, "without Donatello you really cannot hope to defeat me. His brain is the only possible threat to me now. Thankfully," and a sinister grin grew from his smirk, "his brain is halfway to mush by now."

The three brothers flinched as if struck. But before they could even think about counterattacking in rage, another voice rang out.

"Hate to disappoint, but my brain's just fine!"

"Don!"

The olive-green turtle dropped from his perch on top of the ferry-house, bo swinging. With the grace of a lifetime of practice and weeks of time to build up his own fury, Donatello cleared a path for himself, sending clones smashing into each other. Though he should have been in agony, Don showed not even a hint of pain as he strode forward. He stepped into the gap between Leonardo and Michelangelo, making them four brothers, a whole team, once more.

"How…?" Raph began, but Don shook his head.

"Later. First this." He held up a gadget. "Buy me one minute."

"You got it, bro!" Leo replied, a bright sense of hope welling up in his chest. Don was looking like himself, confident and scientific and calm, and he obviously had a plan. As he'd said what felt like so long ago, he trusted his brother completely – if Don needed time, he'd use it wisely. The blue-clad turtle threw himself into the fight more fully, freed of the fear he'd been carrying for his brother.

While three green whirlwinds exploded around him, Don, with one eye on Bishop, began making the final modifications to the device in his hands. The governmental agent was watching him with a certain suppressed fury, and not a little surprise. Donatello hid a grin – he so loved rubbing it in Bishop's face that he had overcome what had been done to him, and now he would take Bishop's whole plan down right in front of him.

Assuming this worked. Otherwise he would go down right in front of Bishop instead. He knew he was gambling a lot of lives, his own included, on this particular crazy plan, but it was all he could do. Donatello just hoped he was right, and if not, he hoped they would forgive him. Not that he'd survive to be forgiven, of course.

"Leo," he said under his breath, just loud enough for his older brother to hear him. "This is a wild-card shot at best. If it doesn't work, you've got to be ready to run."

"It'll work, Don. I believe in you." For an instant, their eyes met, and Leonardo nodded once, his faith and his trust solid as his blades. There was so much Don wanted to say, wanted to tell his brothers, his father, his friends, just in case, but there was no time. So he nodded back, gathered his courage, closed his eyes, and flipped the switch in his hands.

-==OOO==-

Around the pain, Nick suddenly became aware of a new sensation, a slight pressure in his ears. He cracked open a streaming eye and realized that he was detecting an ear-splitting keening sound, which was no more than a footnote to the lancing agony in his skull. The pressure increased steadily, and with it, the worst of the pain receded. He shifted, ignoring the wash of dizziness that came with any movement, so he could see beyond the encircling arms that held him. His mind barely worked, and it took what felt like forever for his brain to understand what his eyes showed him through the window of the HEAT-Seeker.

Swarming the docks and pavement were dozens of little clone Godzillas, all of which were shrieking, crouched on the ground and batting at their malformed heads. The source of their suffering could only be the awful noise Nick could just hear above everything else, but it sounded oddly hollow to him, like the sound were insubstantial, somehow.

A memory ghosted to the front of his mind: standing on the deck of the HEAT-Seeker days ago, watching Godzilla battle Bishop until some kind of sonic attack rendered both him and Donatello nearly catatonic. And then, mere moments prior, the turtle had appeared at his side, melting out of shadows with a whispered order to send Godzilla as far away as possible or at least hold him back. The doctor wasn't actually sure if he had been able to reach his charge through their shared pain, but he had tried with all his might, anyway; Don had not waited around with an explanation but had again slipped into obscurity. Putting the pieces together, Nick's scientific thinking finally kicked in and he understood.

"The sound…it hurts mutations," he rasped. "Don found a way to hurt them all."

"But not the turtles," Elsie pointed. In the center of the area, surrounded by clones, the brothers seemed largely unaffected by the noise, unlike what had happened to Don the first time around. Nick looked more closely, and saw three of the turtles standing around the forth, who appeared to be struggling to remain upright. Donatello.

And suddenly the pain in his mind was gone. Nick almost choked on the dryness of his throat in surprise at the amazing peace and quiet that had replaced the burning agony. Even as he stood, finding himself a little disoriented but otherwise sound in body as well, he instinctively reached for Godzilla, seeking the bond between them. Far off, he could distantly sense his mutant lizard, but the bond was weak, as though Godzilla himself were muffled. Still, they were both alive, and he could tell enough to be sure that his charge was still sane. That was all that mattered.

"Nick!" a strangled cry sounded thinly over the din of the clones. The doctor was moving before he was even really aware at it, drawn by something in the voice. He abandoned Mendel and Elsie, jumping from the deck of the boat to the nearby platform and began sprinting for the knot of turtles in the middle of the fight outside on the docks, feeling the rest of his team following at his heels. Bishop began to sprint towards the brothers, too; Monique peeled off from them to one side to intercept him.

"Donnie! What's happening?" Nick asked as he stopped just shy of crashing into Michelangelo's shell. Before him, Donatello was trembling, sweating, leaning nearly all his weight on Raphael, who held his brother firmly, fire barely concealed in his face.

"Modified sonic attack, tuned to the same nuclear frequency Godzilla's brainwaves operate on," the turtle managed. "Interrupting thought patterns, arresting cognitive function and psychic transference. But temporary."

A shout from one side drew the group's attention as Monique took a nasty blow to the ribs from Bishop's kick. Without a word, Michelangelo moved to assist her.

"So what do we do?" Elsie asked urgently.

"They'll be paralyzed for as long as this holds out," he gripped the device in his hands more tightly. He took a breath and seemed to regain a bit more strength. "Unless you think Godzilla can survive as a hive mind, we have to destroy them all."

"Agreed," Nick nodded decisively. "Craven, Randy, get the emergency weaponry out of the storage locker. Elsie, you're on biological duty."

"Poison?" she asked. Randy and Mendel didn't wait around, rushing back to the lab as quickly as they could manage.

"Whatever it takes. These aren't normal mutations. We can't capture and study them – we have to eliminate them, all of them." Elsie nodded, a bit shocked, and headed off to acquire what she needed. Nick turned back to Don, who seemed to be regaining his control with every moment. "Is it safe to call Godzilla here to help?"

"No," Don replied, pushing Raph a little as he regained his footing. "The signal will probably incapacitate him, too, if it hasn't already."

"How come you're not okay but we are?" Leo put in. Don looked at him through hooded eyes.

"'Cause I've got one in my brain. I calibrated the device to leave us alone, but it's still impacting the embryo in here. So when it twitches, my brain kind of spazzes."

"Donnie, you sure that's okay?" Raph asked, openly worried.

"No, but it's what worked," the genius shrugged. "Come on. We've got to get rid of them fast." He looked over his shoulder as Michelangelo gave a decidedly girly shriek before being sent flying by Bishop. "Here," he handed the gadget to Nick. "Keep it going no matter what. I'm going to go help Mikey."

"Sure you're up to it, bro?" the red-banded turtle put a hand on Don's shoulder. He was surprised to see a fierce light reflect back at him, a fierce smile spreading over his pinched face even as he straightened his shoulders proudly.

"Oh, yeah. I've been waiting to have a little conversation with Bishop about his unwanted attention." Don hefted his bo and turned away. He could feel Raphael's grin even without looking.

"Sounds fun. Count me in!"

"We'll handle Bishop," Leonardo confirmed to Nick. "You and your team deal with these things," he pointed a katana at a writhing form beside him. "But move fast. Bishop's a handful even for us, and he'll be gunning for you."

"Understood." Nick strode back towards the ferry building, the humming device held protectively against his body. Craven, Randy, and Elsie met him coming, each armed and determined. Elsie handed over a modified tranquilizer gun, one that was marked with an orange X – these were the lethal compounds HEAT reserved for last resorts against mutations as tough as their own Godzilla. Nick took the gun in one arm, Donatello's creation in his other, and set himself.

"Every one of them," he ordered, looking across a sea of twitching and suffering bodies. "Remember that he's weak right under the jaw and under the forearms."

"Jefe, are you sure we really have to, you know, kill a bunch of the G-man babies?" Randy hesitated. His face spoke clearly that he felt somehow wrong about what he had been asked to do to creatures that looked so like the one they liked and trusted.

"I'm sure. They aren't Godzilla's children, they're like mental parasites, and they're killing us both. We can't let Bishop have them, we can't let them overwhelm Godzilla, and we can't let them suffer." He took a deep breath, looking at the one closest to him. It did, from a cursory glance, look like his own charge. But it wasn't – he could feel it. This shell of a creature had no mind of its own, no will, nothing but what Bishop had forced into the void.

Nick set the gun against the clone's shoulder and fired, expertly aiming the dart for the big artery that ran up one side of the head. The clone shrieked even louder for a moment, then collapsed. The doctor ignored the twinge inside his heart, telling himself firmly that this was not Godzilla. Not his Godzilla.

"Let's move, people."

-==OOO==-

"I'm so sorry to disrupt your plans, Bishop," Donnie yelled as he launched a strike at the agent, "but did you know you look like a fish when you're surprised?"

"Yeah, a big stinkin' ugly fish!" Raph added, appearing in his brother's wake with a strike of his own. Bishop deflected both, turning at the very last minute before a katana found its way into his arm.

"This is a temporary setback," he proclaimed, ducking Leo's kick and turning so the blow actually tangled an incoming attack from Michelangelo. "You have not defeated me."

"Oh, but we will," Monique promised, attempting to sweep his feet out from under him.

Bishop evaded her and jumped lightly to one side. The four turtles and one human ally had circled him, positioning themselves so he was effectively cut off from any escape. The agent allowed himself a slight sniff at them as he adjusted his stance. He could not permit himself to be baited into any sort of emotional response to the apparent weakness of his clones. Sloppiness at this juncture would end in only further victory to the turtles.

"I assure you, immobilizing my clones, while tactically sound, will not gain you much," he said confidently. Casting his eyes at his five opponents, he decided that the turtle Raphael was the easiest to manipulate at this juncture, and he leered at him. As expected, the red-banded turtle growled and charged, breaking formation.

"You are so smug! I'm gonna wipe that grin off your face!"

"Raph!" came the warning cry of Leonardo, but it was too late. Bishop smoothly disarmed the turtle and pushed him into the self-proclaimed leader, taking them both out of the fight momentarily. With only three opponents left, he rushed the one named Monique, who, to her credit, was not surprised.

The woman blocked his first punch, moving with surprising agility under his second attack and finding an opening to his knee. However, skilled as she was, her human strength could not match the improvements to his body from his study and experimentation. Her kick was designed to shatter his knee – instead, it merely bruised and turned his leg to one side.

Before he could reset his position, however, a weight was on his shoulders, and to his surprise, he found Michelangelo standing on him.

"Hi!" the orange-banded turtle grinned before swinging the baton of his nunchuk straight into the agent's face. Bishop had not been expecting something so aggressive from the youngest turtle, and did not have a ready defense. Even as the weapon impacted and he felt his nose and sunglasses break, he felt the unmistakable sensation of a bo knocking his knees from under him. As he fell, there was a sharp jab of the same bo to his midsection, not enough to do serious damage, but he was winded when he landed.

"Do not move," Monique's voice was curt as he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Against the order, he wiped the blood – how astonishing that they had actually injured him this time! – from his eyes and picked away the pieces of lenses that had stuck to him. The two turtles flanked him, with the human a yard from his feet with a weapon trained on his head.

"Nice job!" Raphael said, finally disentangling himself from the eldest turtle and joining them. "Way to take 'im down!"

"I would not be so hasty." The agent's mind moved calmly even as it raced through his options, finally settling on a course of action.

Bishop made a move as if he were intending to reach for Donatello's nearby legs, causing the other three turtles to lunge to protect their brother; he almost laughed at their predictable reactions. But it was a feint, and he turned the motion into a handstand while kicking the gun from Monique's grip and striking the side of her head with the roundhouse maneuver. A heartbeat later, he was on his feet, the turtles were clustered in front of him, and the woman was on her way to the ground behind him.

"Now, this is a situation that calls for calm," he said, smoothly retrieving the gun from where it had fallen and pointing it at Monique without even sparing her a glance. "You won't risk one of your own, but will you risk her?"

The stillness that overtook the four turtles told the agent everything he needed to know. He allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. Not only did he again have the upper hand in battle, but he also had the upper hand in dealing with both the turtles and Godzilla's human allies. How foolish those quasi-human emotions seemed to make the freaks.

"Since you are having such trouble deciding on a course of action, allow me to select one for you," he continued.

Bishop pulled the trigger.

-==OOO==-

The shouts reached him at the same time as the sharp pain. Nick looked absently down to where he had tucked Donatello's gadget into his belt for safekeeping while waging war on the Godzilla clones, and was only a little surprised to see the device starting to spark around a bullet-sized hole. A moment later, pain shot through his hip at the same place.

But that was forgotten when the mental connection to Godzilla came back.

Death. Dying. Pain. Pain pain pain pain.

Hitting the ground, he curled into a ball, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. His hip hurt abominably, but it was a mere whisper to the pain in his mind. To the sensation of dying again and again and again.

It was too much. It was more than his brain could process. As Nick slid into unconsciousness, he had one last thought.

"What if killing the clones kills Godzilla and me too?"

-==OOO==-

"Nick!" Elsie shouted, seeing the doctor go down. As she raced to him, practically leaping over fallen clone bodies to get there, she was appalled to see blood on the ground. "He's hurt! Bishop shot him!" she called to anyone who would listen.

"Looks like you've got other problems," Bishop said, turning to the stricken turtles before him. "I know when I've overstayed my welcome. Do give my regards to the doctor when he wakes up."

The agent evaded the sneak attack Monique launched from behind, and with the remarkable and inhuman speed he'd demonstrated in the past, dashed to the shadows and disappeared.

"What now?" Mikey turned to Leo, tense and somehow helpless.

"We've got to finish what Nick started and get rid of the last of the clones," the turtle answered. "Don, see if he's okay," he gestured with a katana. "We'll have your back."

"On it, Leo." Without the keening of the sonic weapon in his ears, Donatello felt himself move even more easily. The clone inside was no longer spazzing with his device, but was apparently still being held in check by Master Splinter. By the time he reached his friend's side, he was thinking as fast as ever.

"Don! He's…" Elsie looked up, terror in her eyes. She had turned him over and was just starting to pull at the gadget at his side.

"Leave it," Don ordered, settling into place. He was vaguely aware of his brothers and Monique setting up a perimeter around them while Randy and Mendel continued dealing with the clones from their position near the lab. And it was a good thing, too – with the sound gone, the clones were no longer immobilized and were resuming their attacks. "Depending on how bad he's hurt, we might need to leave it there a while."

Even as he began looking over his friend, Donatello cursed whatever fates had decided that the resident family engineer was also the medic. If he could be fixing the sonic disruptor, he could be saving everyone from a lot of dangerous close-in fighting with Godzilla clones. But personal interest and the necessity of their lives had required that he absorb medical knowledge like the sponge he was to better take care of his family, and therefore he was the one most qualified to help right now. Don could not let himself be distracted by what might be happening around him or what might have been if the situation were different. Nick's life might depend on his ability to focus.

As quickly and as gently as possible, the turtle examined the area. Bishop was an expert marksman, that much was apparent: he'd hit the disruptor straight-on at more than 50 yards. Don ran some lightning-quick mental calculations – the shell of the device should have taken most of the momentum from the shot. He felt around the back of the casing for shrapnel that might have broken off, but found nothing too sizeable.

"Elsie, I'm going to need a first-aid kit and fast. Can you get one?" he asked without looking up. She must have nodded, for a moment later she was running through the war-zone of the dock towards the lab.

"Didn't want her to see," he muttered to himself as he carefully lifted what remained of his poor gadget from where it had been held against Nick's side.

There was no immediate spurt of blood, which was a good sign. Don pulled Nick's shirt out of the way and looked carefully. Then he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not too bad at all." Then, as he began to think, inspiration struck. "Of course! He didn't pass out from the wound, but from the link with Godzilla being restored! But it sure looked to all of us like it was the shot that took him down, so probably Bishop assumes the same!" Don allowed himself to grin. "For once, the turtle luck decided to stay home. This is the best-possible outcome – Nick's not seriously hurt and Bishop still has no way of knowing about the connection between him and Godzilla."

By the time Elsie made her way back through the last of the clone war with the medical supplies, Donnie was already seeing the bleeding slow and he could assure her that Nick would be fine. They had big problems looming, most of them having to do with Bishop, but this was one medical emergency that didn't require any amount of panic.


	24. Counter Gambit

Ooh, it's getting exciting!

New verse, same as the first, twice as fast and no less crass.

Enjoy!

* * *

Within half an hour, every Godzilla clone on the dock was dead or dying, and most of their bodies had been piled together in one of the other warehouses HEAT used for extra storage. The corpses would have to be destroyed at some point, but this was not the moment for it – both teams knew that they had won the fight only on a technicality and were already anticipating another. Inside the lab, everyone sat or leaned in a rough circle, working according to their nature. Don was tinkering with the remains of his sonic device. Michelangelo was bouncing, with Raph trying to contain him and mostly succeeding. Leo was thinking, and pacing a little restlessly, his eyes sliding across the room and resting on each member of his family one at a time, as though he could peer through them to the worries or injuries they hid.

At the same time, HEAT was not idle. Monique was working on restocking the weaponry, reloading what ammunition had been spent and repairing any damage. Elsie and Mendel had returned to their lab tables, reproducing as much toxin as they had expended against the clones. Randy, nursing a nasty gash to the head from a bad combination of loss-of-balance and Godzilla-clone feet, was keeping himself busy hacking every camera and security network he could find, trying to patch together a complete picture of the area surrounding the lab so he could visually identify any returning threats.

Only two forms remained motionless – Splinter and Nick. The former was still deep in a trance meditation, beyond where even the turtles could call him out of the astral plane. Even so, they did not try too hard to dislodge him, knowing that the moment they did, his return to wakefulness would cost Donatello his own mind when the embryo within regained control. Comparing notes after the battle with Bishop, everyone except possibly Nick and Leonardo had been surprised by the reason the purple-clad turtle was able to function, but there was no time to explain it in detail to the inquiring scientific minds. Additionally, there was no denying that at this point they needed Don's brain on their side if they intended to see their situation through. If they were not watchful, there would not be time later to examine the phenomenon at work.

Nick, on the other hand, was ensconced in the couch, his eyes closed. Don had bandaged him up well, and he was not in the same kind of pain, but there was a clamoring in his mind he could not ignore.

"Godzilla. I'm here, big guy. It's okay."

It almost broke the doctor's heart to feel how tentative and fearful his charge was, meeting his mental presence with as much gentleness as desperate need for comfort. If Godzilla had been a dog, he'd have been piled in Nick's lap, whining and nuzzling and burying his head in the safety of his parent's arms. For a giant, fire-breathing lizard, he was incredibly bruised, not physically, but emotionally and mentally, and he turned for help to the only force stronger than himself in his mind – Nick.

"Are you still in pain?"

Denial, tinged with the memory of pain flowed across the bond, and Nick dug deeper. He could see that Godzilla, like himself, was relieved not to feel that he was dying again and again anymore. Now that the clones were eliminated, there was nothing transmitting the physical sensations across the psychic link anymore, but the memory of it remained. And aside from all that, there was still a far-off sense of still more alien thoughts pushing against the edges. Nick could sense it too, and he knew what it meant: the clones they had fought were not all Bishop had, and those that remained were still connected to Godzilla and still under the agent's control.

"I'm glad you're all right, Godzilla. I know exactly how you feel, but it's over now. I hope."

Even as he sent the comforting thought to the presence in his mind, he knew the truth was a little more nuanced than that. It was true that the battle was over, but if Bishop had more clones, there had to be another one on the horizon. And this encounter had only proved exactly how dangerous the clones could be, not only to those who were psychically bound to them, but to those who might have to meet them in combat as well. Other than Nick's wound from Bishop and Randy's head-wound, everyone who had faced off against the clones had bruises, cuts, and a few slight burns, although the turtles brushed off their injuries as minor and nothing out of the ordinary. As much as Nick wanted this to have been the end, it simply wasn't.

"Parent?" came across the bond.

"I'm here, Godzilla."

There were no words for the sensation that suddenly filled Nick's heart to the brim, but it was so full of unquestioning, unconditional love and trust and protectiveness and loyalty and worry and thankfulness and courage it brought tears springing to the doctor's eyes. He returned the feeling as much as his human heart could, and promised them both he would live up to the faith Godzilla had in him. One way or another, even if another fight was waiting for them, they would emerge and they would end this torment for Godzilla, himself, and the clones, or die trying.

"Guys, I think we need a plan," Nick said, returning to himself and addressing the room at large.

"Um, duh," Mikey put in before anyone could stop him. "Even I know that!"

"Knock it off, shell-for-brains," Raph said, smacking him. "Adults are talking here."

"Bishop has more clones," Nick continued. "We've got to get rid of them, all of them, or we're going to be in big trouble."

"How do you know?" Mendel asked. Nick glared at him and the blond visibly back-tracked. "Oh. Right. Sorry. Never mind."

"Well," Elsie put in, "if he does have more, he's got to be keeping them somewhere. You can't hide an army of mini-lizards in a brownstone or something. Maybe that's where we start."

"Agreed. We can plan nothing until we know the obstacles we may meet," Monique added, not even looking up.

"On it!" Randy announced, spinning a circle in his chair before settling back to his desk with renewed fervor. "I'll ferret out his location and see what I can pull on it."

"Just don't get caught," Craven called over his shoulder. "The last thing we need is for him to have a heads-up that we're still, you know, up and fighting."

"Oh, ye of little faith."

"More like me of no faith at all."

"Getting back to the point," Nick interrupted the sparring match that was brewing, "when we do know what we're up against, what are we going to do about it?"

"If you ask me, I'm all for stormin' the place and takin' it out, top to bottom!" Raphael's grin was downright wicked.

"What, take on the entire government office by yourselves?" Elsie asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't be the first time!" Mikey shrugged cheerfully. "We've dealt with monsters, aliens, corporate goons, street gangs, bad guys from other dimensions – you name it!"

"Well, except for the alternate dimensions, so have we!" Randy called over his shoulder a little defensively.

"Alternate dimensions are only theoretically possible," Mendel corrected with a superior tone. "There's no poof they exist."

"Nope. Chalk those up to proven," Donatello finally spoke from where he was working. "Been there, experienced that. I'll tell you the details sometime, but believe me, there's proof all right."

"You mentioned aliens," Monique cut in before the conversation turned to matters less relevant. "We, too, have had our encounters, not all of which have been publicly known."

"All right, so where were you guys when the Triceratons came and invaded?" Raph found himself interested. Truth be told, outside his own little family, until this minute he hadn't thought much about what their exploits had meant for the rest of the world.

"Antarctica, dealing with, if you can believe this, a giant mutant penguin. What about when the Tachyons invaded and turned all the mutants against humanity?" Nick returned.

"Actually, the call they put out drew us, too – it was only by dropping into a deep meditation while locked in a room by our closest friends that we didn't get involved ourselves." Donatello shuddered. "Pretty scary to have your mind compelled like that, although at least we knew enough to fight against it at the time. We only found out later that it had turned all the giant-sized mutants into ravaging monsters."

"And when the first Godzilla was tearing up the city?" Elsie wanted to know.

"Dude, we live in the sewers. It's not like the army was going to evacuate us! So we just stayed home and watched the chaos on TV. Way better than any monster movie!" Mikey grinned.

"All right, enough of the memories. We've got work to do." Leo crossed his arms. "Sounds like a frontal assault is the only plan on the table so far. Which means we need other options."

"Give me about an hour and I'll see what I can do," Randy didn't even look up from the screen.

"In the meantime," Mendel stood up, "what about our original problem?" At a half-dozen confused looks, he sighed. "Don. The thing in his head. Hello?"

"I already thought of that," the turtle in question said slowly, looking around but mostly meeting his brothers' eyes. "And the truth is that this isn't as important as dealing with Bishop right now."

"Yeah it is, Donnie!" Raph argued angrily, but the gentlest turtle raised a hand and stopped him.

"I appreciate that you think so, but you're wrong. The thing in my head, thanks to Master Splinter, is only a threat to me in the long-term. I mean, yeah, it's not very long-term. We're probably talking days before there's irreparable damage. But with Bishop, we're talking about hours."

"What do you mean?" Leonardo asked, looking closely at his younger brother. He had a terrible feeling he knew what Don was about to say, and that he would have no choice but to agree with it, but he did not have to like it.

"If Nick's right, and we have to believe he is, Bishop has more of those clones. And I'd have to agree – the presence in my mind seemed a lot bigger than just the ones we saw today. The problem isn't that he has them, since we can slow them down with this," he held up the gadget that was starting to look less like it had taken a bullet, "and Bishop knows it. He knows now that he can't use them as effectively as he wanted, but that won't stop him from trying. The real problem is Godzilla."

"What does he mean?" Craven turned to Nick.

"Godzilla is still struggling against whatever form of programming or mind-control Bishop is using on the clones. He's holding out, but the longer this goes, the weaker he gets. At some point, he won't be able to fight it off anymore and he'll be just as much under Bishop's control as the clones. That's the problem."

"So if we thought Bishop was a problem with dozens of mini-Godzillas, that's nothing to the kind of problem he would be with one giant one. I get it," Michelangelo perched on a chair, surprisingly still.

"Bishop doesn't know he could be controlling Godzilla, since he still doesn't know that they're interconnected, and we have to stop him before he figures it out," Don continued, nodding. "We need to get rid of all the clones before Bishop even knows what sort of weapon he actually has, so we have to do it before Godzilla loses himself. If we strike now, Bishop'll lose the rest of his clones that we've already proven can be beaten with sound, never knowing that they open a door to a much larger asset, namely Godzilla. That can't wait."

"Neither can you, bro," Raph said darkly.

"Yes, I can. Compared to this, I can." He sighed heavily, absently rubbing his temple, then catching himself and looking up. "Yes, it's still there, and yes, it's still putting pressure on my brain from within my skull, which does cause headaches even now, and yes, it will kill me or incapacitate me eventually. But if we don't stop Bishop first, what chance do any of us have to fix it in time anyway? Not to mention what he might accidentally do before he figures out how to control Godzilla. I don't think the city can take another attack like that."

"You're right."

"Leo!" Raph's fists curled tightly and he turned on his brother. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," he replied heavily. "If we don't take Bishop down, we'll never have the chance to save Donnie. And a lot of innocent people could get hurt in the process. Godzilla is too big a risk to let run under Bishop's control, no matter how much we want to take care of our own first."

"For what it's worth," Nick spoke into the tension, "I'm sorry. If you weren't worrying about Godzilla turning against your family and the city, you could focus on Don. But because you're helping us, we have to make Don wait."

"Don't be sorry," the purple-banded turtle said gently. "We've been through this. We might not have known all the risks when we started this, but we chose this path. Now we've got to follow it through."

"You are correct," Monique said, striding into the center of the conversation. "First we eliminate the risk to our security. Then and only then can we operate in safety. All else is of no consequence."

"Then it's settled," Leonardo fixed everyone who was looking at him in a blazing gaze. "We take Bishop down first. And he is going to pay for making Donnie wait. I swear it."

-==OOO==-

"I don't like this plan," Raph grumbled as he shifted in the shadows.

"Which part?" Mikey wanted to know.

"All of it! Which part am I supposed to like?"

"Guys, keep it down," Don admonished. "Does 'the way of silence' ring any bells?"

"Don't you go all Leo-junior on me," Raph threatened, albeit in a much lower voice.

"I heard that." Leo appeared beside the three. "It's time to focus now. We're only going to get one shot at this."

"And that means you're up, bro!" Raphael put an all-too-enjoying-himself arm around his younger brother, grinning.

"Short end of stick, meet Mikey." Michelangelo sighed long-sufferingly

"Long end of stick, beat Mikey," Raph suggested. Donatello grinned and pulled his bo.

"Never mind! Never mind!" Obediently, as much egged on by the threat of violence as by the stern expression in Leo's eyes, the orange-banded turtle moved forward. "Why is it the cute one who always has to be the distraction, anyway?" he muttered.

Leaving the safety of the shadows across the way, Michelangelo crept towards the warehouse. It was sure useful that Randy had been able to pinpoint Bishop's location at the east end of Lairdman Island. This area was not too heavily populated, which was Don's polite way of saying nobody not up to something uber-secret and/or illegal would be anywhere nearby. This particular warehouse was pretty sizable, with what, to an experienced eye could discern, could only be several levels below ground as well as above.

Mikey suppressed a grin as he crept forward. This plan was so cool!

As he looked at one of the entrances to the building, an old coal chute, he spotted the tell-tale wire that was almost invisible – he'd never have seen it without Don telling him to look for it. As expected, Bishop was not only waiting for them with open arms, but had anticipated their movements. Which was, as Leo had suggested, the perfect time to try a new tactic. Since the government agent was expecting them to sneak into his facility, what better way to confuse him than to walk in the front door?

Now, why Michelangelo was the one to do so, that was the one part of the plan he didn't get.

In a pocket of his belt, he felt his Shell Cell vibrate silently. That was the cue from Leo. At once, Mikey took a deep breath and barreled forward towards one of the main entrances, a set of double-doors that, from what they could tell, was probably closest to Bishop's actual lab given its position in relation to the water and to being out of sight from the city across the river. A few steps before he reached them, a razor-sharp shuriken blurred ahead of him, hitting the electronic lock to one side and causing it to spark and die. So when the turtle hit the doors, they gave to his weight and buckled inward, the lock no longer able to hold.

"Honey! I'm home!" Mikey shouted into the space. At once a buzzing alarm sounded and he could see that, indeed, he had appeared in a large area that was probably right next to the lab itself. A whole crowd of Godzilla clones were gathered at the far end, and at his appearance, they turned and charged, instinctively protecting their turf.

"I can see you're busy now! I'll come back later!" the turtle yelped, bouncing in place. When the nearest clones were almost on top of him, he bolted, leading them outside. "Nobody said there'd be this many of them!" he wailed to the cold night.

After a few yards of sprinting, Mikey spared a glance backward, enough to see that the sea of clones following him had finally ebbed in its spill from the doors. He banked hard to the left, seeing the whole crowd turn like some bizarre flock of birds. Huge, killer, lizard birds that could breathe fire. Whose idea was this stupid plan anyway?

"Now!" The crack of the order shot though the night and three nearly-invisible shapes leapt from their place for the open and unguarded doors. At the same signal, Michelangelo finished his arc and raced back towards the building.

"Get ready," Leo's steady voice in the face of two dozen monsters chasing his youngest brother surprised nobody but himself. "Almost…"

Mikey reached the very stoop of the door and flung himself inside.

"Now!" the leader repeated. As one, Raphael and Donatello each swung one door shut and, with the help of Don's knowledge of electronic locks and Raph's knowledge of how to haul heavy stuff, they secured the entrance completely. Now they were inside Bishop's lair, and at least part of his force was outside. The turtles knew it wouldn't stay that way for long, but it bought them a few minutes.

"Nice job," Leo commended the exhausted orange-clad turtle who was panting.

"No prob," Mikey replied between gulps of air. "All in…a day's work…for the Battle…" But before he could get all the way through the phrase Raph was pulling him by his mask-tails deeper into the room. He didn't have the breath even to squawk as the four advanced.

"Clever," came a familiar and hated voice from everywhere. "But your divide-and-conquer tactics will not work for long."

"Looks like time for phase two," Don murmured under his breath. From his duffel bag he pulled out a control box and started to work. "Buy me the time."

But as the three turtles settled around him, they were more than a little surprised by a new sea of clones appearing from a large room beyond them, at least as many as they'd already locked outside. Behind the horde Bishop strode, his red and black battle suit bright in the sudden lights that came on at the same time.

"Um, Leo?" Raph asked quietly. "Were THIS many clones in the plan?"

"Not really," he whispered back.

"And this is not the end of my army," Bishop crowed.

Raph smacked his forehead with his hand, managing not to poke himself in the eye with his sai.

"Oh, crud."

-==OOO==-

Somewhere outside, a flock of mutated lizards milled around aimlessly. They clawed at doors and walls somewhat ineffectively, finding that the exterior of the building hid a reinforced skeleton that was largely impervious to their underdeveloped strength. Just as they began to lose interest and wander off at random, a low pitch sounded in the night air, drawing their attention. In concert, the creatures turned towards the origin of the sound, a speaker-box mounted over a partially-hidden coal chute entrance off to one side. An opening was visible there, through which the mutants passed in almost straight lines, following the order given by the sound.

And behind them, oddly yellow in the dim light, rolled a robot.

"You were right," Mendel whispered as he steered. "They don't even appear to notice NIGEL since he's not a threat."

"If NIGEL could talk," Randy whispered back, "I have the oddest feeling he'd be saying something about chibi Godzilla right about now."

"Which is exactly why we disconnected the audio," Nick put in, not cracking a smile. "NIGEL announcing his presence, in any way, is sort of counter to this plan."

"So far, so good, then." Elsie looked at her watch. "The guys have been in there about 20 minutes. Do you think they're okay?"

"Oh, probably. This is their plan, and they seem to know what they're doing," Mendel rubbed his nose awkwardly.

"Look!" Monique cut into the conversation. As she pointed, they could see NIGEL passing through the tiny entrance and vanishing within. "It is time to go."

"Wait. Aren't we supposed to…?" Randy began.

"No." Nick's voice was decisive. "We go in now."

"But we told the guys…" Elsie tried.

"It matters not. We must go." Monique stood from her place in their hidden spot and began moving silently towards the opening.

"Nick?" Mendel asked, more than a little terror squeaking in his voice.

"I know what we agreed on, but we've got to do this. Stay here if you want, but I think Monique's got the right idea. I'm going in."

Watching Nick set off for the waiting basement entrance, knowing that the plan didn't include what was probably about to happen, the remaining three members of HEAT exchanged glances. They had but a few seconds to decide if they were going off with the other two or stay put. But, after each took a deep, nervous breath, Elsie and Randy rose simultaneously and followed. A moment later, Mendel scrambled after them, more afraid to be left behind than to go on.

Even before their eyes could adjust to the darker dark of the inside of the building, the three late-arrivals felt themselves pulled backwards and pushed against a wall. It was only the whispered "Shh!" that kept them from giving away their position. In the shadows ahead of them, glowing red eyes milled about, intent on whatever was at the other end of the room. Elsie felt a shiver run down her spine, but she held still. Her heart was pounding loud enough to be heard in New Jersey, and she could feel Mendel beside her quaking where he stood, pushing himself against the wall as though he could melt into it.

On her other side, she felt Randy tense suddenly, then reach down and grab her wrist. He gave a gentle tug and she realized they were moving. Echoing Randy, Elsie shifted until she could find Mendel's arm and pulled. The blond bit back the startled gasp with an effort, and they fell into line, connected only by touch in this darkness, following blindly wherever they were being led.

"In here," the words were whispered so quietly they might have floated unnoticed in the air. Even so, Nick's voice was quietly confident. A hand touched Elsie's shoulder and pushed down, and she realized she was being asked to crawl. She suppressed a shudder and moved forward gingerly, finding herself in what could only be some kind of old heating duct.

The tunnel was narrow enough that it brushed her shoulder if she strayed even a little to either side, and the air felt suddenly dense and hard to breathe. Elsie moved forward, not thinking about what she couldn't see, not thinking about what might lurk in here with her and the dark. The slope suddenly changed from level to somewhat steep, and it took all her strength to keep moving upward without sliding backwards. Ahead, she could hear Randy grunt, and though she braced herself for impact, he didn't land on her. Behind her, there was a quiet "Eep!" as Mendel lost his grip, but the thump was muffled, and the sound of Nick straining to push the roboticist upwards made her almost giggle. But the seriousness of their situation sobered her at once, and the feel of the walls closing in on her made her sweat even more as she tried to focus on climbing and not on being trapped in the walls of a building that even now NIGEL was rigging to explode.

When the slope abruptly ended, Elsie was so caught off-guard she almost missed her handhold, but before she could even think of sliding backwards there was an iron-strong grip on her arm as Monique pulled her up. A glimmer of light was visible ahead, and by it, she could make out Randy crouched ahead, taking up as little space as possible. It was amazing they fit into this tunnel at all – the turtles would never have been able to creep through the narrow space with their shells, and how Monique had managed with the massive backpack she was toting was anyone's guess.

Without waiting for Elsie to get her bearings, Monique pushed the redhead down the duct, reaching for Mendel who was obviously struggling. Elsie took the opportunity to crawl over Randy towards the light. It was the end of the vent, likely where it had once met some sort of unit or junction with several other ducts, but instead had been simply cut off in the recent reorganization. There was a box shoved against the opening, but it was a little shorter than the duct, so she could see over the top of it. The view of light and space was almost too much for her – Elsie just barely stopped herself from throwing the box out of her way and standing up, fighting down her claustrophobia with the knowledge that she had no idea what was waiting out there.

A tug on her ankle was enough to bring Elsie back to herself; Monique was impatiently trying to get her out of the way. With the enormous backpack, it took quite a bit of wiggling for the women to switch places in the narrow space, but at last Elsie found herself back with the others, Monique cutting off all the light for a long, tense moment of silence. Then there was an extremely odd sound that it took Elsie more than a moment to identify as a trademark Mendel Craven sneezing fit, muffled by probably more than one set of arms.

"Come," came Monique's curt order. At the same moment, she pushed the box that had barred her way and exited the duct smoothly, sliding off to one side. The remaining members of HEAT tried not to rush the tiny opening, mostly succeeding, though they spilled out of the tunnel as though it had been upended.

"Where are we?" Nick asked softly, the first to get his composure back as he moved to a crouch.

"It appears we are on a level between that on which we entered and the one on which the turtles likely remain. This is good," Monique drew a flashlight as though it were a weapon and moved it around their immediate vicinity. "This area is not under surveillance, and it appears this is the electrical and mechanical hub of the lab."

Indeed, the shadowy space was lit not by a central bulb or an exit sign, but by thousands of little glowing green and yellow and blue and red lights from dozens of computer components and other pieces of equipment. The room felt large, almost the width of the whole building. It appeared that whatever had been here previously had been removed, every unnecessary wall taken out so that all the massive banks of computers and servers and hydraulics and everything else could be placed on this level. Everything stretched to the ceiling and, in many cases, wires and whole sections of machine punched through to the next floor for some purpose or another. HEAT had emerged at one end, sheltered from any prying eyes by an enormous tank of something – it sounded like water but was not transparent so it was impossible to know.

Leading the way, Monique began a steady advance, ducking through the labyrinthine passages and corridors made by the components, making note of all the cameras and other surveillance devices as she found them. When she had established the precise location of each, she turned to Mendel, who had followed with the others in relieved silence. Anything was better than that narrow duct full of spiders and dust and darkness.

"Can NIGEL disable the security on this level?" she asked.

"Um…maybe," he ran a hand through his hair, thinking quickly. "Donatello has primary control, since he's the one having NIGEL lay the explosives below us. We didn't really plan for me to have any access to his functions after he got inside, but…maybe."

Pulling out his own remote control, familiar enough in his hands he could have done this in pitch-blackness, he ran his fingers across the buttons. He'd shut off his signal to the robot after directing it inside, knowing the robot would just get confused if it were taking orders from two separate places. But Donatello had not yet accessed NIGEL except to acknowledge that it was in place, so there was a moment of time if he acted fast. Mendel quickly called up the visual display, spotting a nearby set of computer cables running along the wall. It was the work of a moment to connect NIGEL directly to the security feed and take it over – for all he complained about Randy, he had certainly learned a few tricks from him!

"I got it," he reported. "I've taken a snapshot of the security video from just before we came in. I'll put it on loop so they won't see us in here unless somebody comes to look."

"Good." Nick relaxed minutely. "While Donnie's moving NIGEL around downstairs, we'll go ahead and put up our own surprise on this level. That way we've got some double-insurance, just in case the turtles' plan doesn't work."

"I thought we were waiting outside until they signaled that it was safe," Randy said suspiciously. "What happened to that plan?"

"Why miss the opportunity to seek our own retribution?" Monique returned, a determined gleam in her eye.

"You planned this all along!" Elsie accused. "You knew you'd come in anyway!"

"We have trusted the turtles to do what they felt best to deal with the situation, knowing they would have to improvise on the spot," she replied easily. "They, in turn, trusted us to do the same. That is all I am doing."

"Besides, if we're on hand here, maybe we can help them out if things go wrong," Nick said. "Anyway, we're here now, so we may as well repay Bishop for his visit to our lab!"

There was a fierce light in Nick's face as he knelt beside Monique, who was already pulling things out of her backpack. Wanton destruction was not usually HEAT's style, but it was certainly Godzilla's, so they were just preempting the situation as far as Nick cared to consider. Besides, anything he could do to make sure the turtles' plan worked was worth any risk.

For all their sakes.


	25. Familial Rapport

So, I had been toying with the idea of putting these up one at a time, with days in between. And decided that was mean. Especially for those of you who really love this story. Instead, you're getting the whole thing here and now. We've made it through and we're about to hit the big finale. The following is for all of the remaining chapters. And be on the lookout - I'm thinking I might do a oneshot in each universe that can be read alone (so not in the crossover section) but specific to this story. If that happens, I don't think I can link them together, but I'll put in the description that it's a part of this larger plot.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the TMNT, Godzilla the Series, or anything else that comes out in this story. The tale is mine, but I'm just borrowing the characters from everybody else. And thanks for them.

I owe a tremendous thank you to everyone who has read this far. Some of you have even taken the time to comment on every chapter, or to send me long, thoughtful responses to this story. It is an honor to have earned your high regard and the rest of this is for you all.

A special thanks before I sign off and let the teams tell the story – thanks to Macx, who gave me permission forever ago to use the version of Godzilla from "Deep Water." Couldn't have gotten here without that.

So long from me for now! Enjoy!

* * *

Bishop looked over the warehouse, taking in everything but allowing no emotion to cloud his perception. As he had expected, as soon as he launched an attack with the Godzilla clones, Donatello had turned on his apparently repaired sonic weapon, rendering the creatures nearly motionless. If he had cared to allow it, the agent would have been thoroughly annoyed. Apparently his unstoppable weapon, these mini-Godzillas, could be overcome by one turtle and a hand-held device, meaning were probably not the key he needed in his war to defend the planet. More precious time and resources lost.

With the horde immobilized, the turtle team had set to attacking directly, and it was only because Bishop had so many agents that he himself had not yet been pressed into the fray. This gave him the time to observe. He checked off several notes to himself, about how the turtles seemed to have learned some new techniques, about how his men more needed training in combat, disdainfully noticing the apparent ease with which the freaks knocked out or otherwise eliminated their foes.

But what he watched more than anything else was Donatello.

The other three turtles had formed a loose triangle around the purple-banded one, who, between strikes and defensive actions, was focused on yet another gadget he'd pulled from his seemingly bottomless duffle bag. The item itself appeared to have no bearing on the fight, as it neither impacted his agents nor the Godzillas, but it must be important, given the intensity of Donatello's work. And if the other three brothers were defending him to buy him time, then whatever plan they had hatched was likely dependent upon the "smart one" to implement.

"I suppose it would be impolite not to welcome my guest back home," he smirked. Even as he leaped from his place on the catwalk above, he keyed some instructions into the computer interface on his arm. Landing between Donatello and where Leonardo traded blows with one of his better agents, Bishop's smile widened.

"Hi there! Long time no see!" Donatello quipped, stowing the device in his bag even as he turned his full attention to the new threat. Bishop only vaguely noted the confident, almost cheerful air with which he was greeted – whatever the turtles had planned, evidently it was successful so far.

"Thank you for saving me the trouble of coming to find you again," Bishop replied easily. "You've saved the taxpayers quite a bit by returning of your own accord."

"Oh, I'm not here to stay," the turtle returned, settling himself defensively and looking around with just the barest outward expression of discomfort. Bishop almost laughed – his three brothers were handling a new wave of agents and were, therefore, rather occupied.

"We'll see about that." And Bishop attacked.

-==OOO==-

"Hey Nick?" Elsie squatted next to where he was planting some explosives at the base of something big and important-looking.

"Yeah?" he asked more automatically than because he was paying attention.

"How's Godzilla doing? With all this, I mean."

"Um," Nick rocked back to his heels and considered for a moment. The fuzziness that had overtaken him told him that somewhere above Donatello had activated the sonic weapon again, blocking most of his connection to his charge. But there was an echo of it anyway, somewhere even the technology couldn't reach.

"He's worried," he finally answered, meeting Elsie's eyes. "He knows I'm in danger, and he doesn't like it. But he also knows I'm not in so much danger that I need him to come barging in right now."

"Good thing, or we'd be in a lot more trouble," Mendel said from nearby.

"Don's adjustments seem to be working, then?" Randy asked.

"Yeah. There's almost nothing leaking through to us from the clones now, even their pain, although Godzilla's probably shielding me from it again," Nick said. "The sonic disruptor was designed to cut out a certain amount of psychic interference, not shut it down entirely. I think we managed to isolate the precise frequencies that interfere with the connection, so while Don's blocking the clones on most levels, I've still got enough ability to tap into Godzilla that the big guy isn't panicking."

"So do you think this crazy plan will work?" Elsie wanted to know.

"I think it will," Nick gave her a thumbs-up. "It's not perfect, but it should be enough to do what we have to do, and for us to destroy the rest of the clones without destroying ourselves. Assuming…"

"Quiet!" Monique's voice ordered them to silence with such hissed force it arrested their words completely.

From above came some muffled noises, and then a few pieces of machinery sprang to life, whirring and pumping ominously. HEAT collectively froze, holding still and scarcely breathing as they listened. As the moments ticked on, the sense of dread grew, made worse when Bishop's triumphant laughter trickled down to them. But before any of them could really react, another voice sounded, pinning them in place with the power of its pain and anger and terror.

"NOOOO!"

-==OOO==-

Michelangelo felt his knees suddenly freeze and go limp, and it was only the fact that he was face-to-face with an enemy that kept him on his feet. He'd never thought he could feel worse than watching Donatello rage in a container built by Leatherhead and lost to a mutation that eradicated every trace of the brother he knew. He'd never expected he could feel that way again. He choked on a harsh breath after his unexpected bellow.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you do a nice job of emulating human emotions," Bishop almost purred. "But freaks like you have no business with caring, no matter how much you pretend otherwise. I'll tell you what," he smirked, "I'll even make you a deal. Turn around and walk away and I'll leave the rest of your so-called family alone. I've got what I really need now."

"For a mad scientist, you're really stupid!" Mikey found himself shouting. "Don's my brother and I'm not going anywhere when he's in trouble! I'm not gonna lose him to you!" Anger woke him to his senses and he fought the paralyzing shock and loss that had overtaken him.

"Ah, my dear Michelangelo, you've already lost him," Bishop replied airily.

"Mikey!" Raph shouted, barreling into the space at full-speed, Leo at his heels. The pair had been cleaning up the agents and doing what they could to dispatch the motionless clones when an agonizing cry from their youngest brother had brought them running.

Even as they bolted into the next room, both felt the pang of guilt. They couldn't have missed Don taking on Bishop all on his own, nor Bishop methodically herding him through a doorway and out of sight, but there hadn't been time for them to get away. A flash of orange bandana had reassured both that Don was not fighting alone and they'd let themselves forget, for a moment, how dangerous Bishop really could be. But when Mikey cried out like that, they made time in the fight to run. As they'd passed through the lab door, almost as an afterthought, Leo had remembered to strike the door's electronic lock to keep out the remaining Godzillas and goons behind them.

The pair skidded to a halt beside their brother, taking in what had arrested his attention. Between them and the remaining turtle, Bishop stood, arms crossed, face alight with a sickly triumph. And behind him, crouched and shaking was Don.

"What did he do?" Leo demanded.

"He had a dart gun…I didn't see it until it was too late…" Mikey breathed, his voice unsteady.

"I'm impressed, Donatello," Bishop said, not taking his eyes off the other three. "Most species would have succumbed already. Apparently your system is more resilient than I thought. Or is that your innate stubbornness?"

"I'm…starting to feel…a bit…like a wet bar…with all the cocktails…in my system," Don managed to quip. But the effort cost him and he shuddered violently. From his hands and knees he looked up at his brothers, and they could see a sheen of sweat breaking out on his head. "Sorry…"

"What was in it?" Raph raged, barely keeping himself from flying forward to make Bishop pay.

"Oh, nothing much. Mostly it's just a growth accelerant for the clone embedded in your brother's brain. Well, that and one of my control substances. Nothing that should hurt him too much. At least, not yet. But it'll help make him nice and pliant so he will play more obediently with me from now on."

"Enough talk!" Leo decided, the threat of losing his brother yet again, and to Bishop's mind-control, pushing his emotions beyond his stony control. He sped from his place, striking with all his force, and managed to put a serious slice in Bishop's armor for his trouble. Moving smoothly from protective anger to ultimate focus, he engaged the agent, doing his very best to keep the man busy and away from his brothers.

"Donnie!" Mikey dove forward, grasping the pale shoulders and pulling him to his feet. Donatello followed him as though he were sleepwalking.

"Bro, can you hear me?" Raph asked.

"Sure." The fog was so thick in Don's eyes they were almost discolored, but they cleared for a moment and he gripped the supporting arms around him. "I can't fight long…already compromised. Power of suggestion without defenses…"

"Just tell us what to do," Michelangelo pleaded.

"Follow…the plan." He rummaged through the bag that dangled limply from an arm and pulled out a control. "Here. Red for…boom. Green for…noise." To their horror, Don's eyes clouded again, and he seemed to forget what he'd been saying.

"Enough of that, Donatello," snapped Bishop's voice from where he had jumped to avoid a katana and now perched on top of an empty container. "It's time to go to sleep. I've got a place here for you. Come on now," and his words were eerily soothing.

"Don!" Leo whipped around in time to see his brother turn from Raph and Mikey and begin stumbling towards the agent, face slack and empty. "Don't listen to him!"

"That's right, Donatello. Come along," Bishop repeated.

"You leave him alone!" Raphael's moment of cool broke down completely and he became a flame in motion, burning with rage as he threw himself into a fight. He was seeing red for real, now, and even Bishop's sardonic smile infuriated him. He would break that smile and that man or tear himself to pieces.

"Donnie," Mikey said, jumping forward and regaining his hold on his older brother's arm, "Donnie, snap out of it!"

"Bed time, Dontello!" Bishop called in a sing-songing voice from where he traded fierce blows with Raph.

Donatello literally wavered, his body turning him towards Michelangelo, then Bishop, like an egg on a pedestal, tipping in whichever direction swayed him at any given moment. Something in Bishop's words seemed to be taking hold, however, as his eyes began to slide closed and his body started to sink to the floor. He wasn't in the container Bishop had opened for him, but the command to sleep had been heard.

"Donatello!" Leo barked his name like an order. "Wake up right now!" He used his sharpest leader tone, as though he were ordering an attack, and to his gratification, Don's eyes opened a bit and he seemed to respond.

"I don't suppose you could order him to act like he's not drugged!" Mikey suggested, a hint of panic rising in his voice. As Leo strode over to them, Raph gave a bitten-off shout of pain. The eldest of the turtles nodded once to Michelangelo and signaled him to help deal with Bishop, taking the remote Don had entrusted to him with an open hand. Reluctantly setting his nunchuks swinging, Mikey complied, still looking back at the brother who was lost.

"Donatello," Leo said, still in the same strident tone, "I need you to fight this. I need you to come back."

"He can't," Bishop commented, making an attempt to strike Leo that was deflected by the combined efforts of Raph and Mikey. "Between the physical pressure from the implant on his brain and that mix of drugs he won't be thinking straight for a while. All he needs is a little reprogramming and he'll be as docile as my clones, but twice as useful." Then he grinned widely. "Do you think he would be willing to turn his brain to my services? Maybe I can even convince him that I am his father."

A wordless cry of grief erupted from Raph then, seconded by Michelangelo, and both redoubled their efforts to pound the snot out of the agent, who mostly seemed content to taunt them. Leonardo felt his chest tear in half, but he couldn't let himself be lost in rage now. He grabbed Don's arms and stared into the dull eyes intently, as if he could force the drugs out of him by sheer willpower.

"I don't believe it. You're stronger than Bishop, Donnie, stronger than his games. Fight it! Come on!"

Don's head tilted sideways, as if he were studying an interesting problem, but the fog stubbornly clouded his gaze and his face remained slack. Desperation welled up and Leo shook him. "Shell, Don! You've got to do this!"

"I'm telling you," Bishop commented, not even sounding out of breath as he evaded the increasingly-furious attacks of Raph and Mikey, "you'd do better to just walk away. If you leave him here, I won't bother you again. It's a fairer deal than you freaks deserve."

"I'll show you where you can stick your deal!" Raph snarled.

A beeping sound suddenly drew Leonardo's attention and he glanced at the watch partially covered by Don's wrist-bands. The timer. Their plan, everything, depended on them sticking to the time-frame. But "red for boom, green for noise" wasn't enough. They couldn't pull this off without Don's know-how. Leo could trigger things with the remote, but he couldn't adjust to the situation. He needed his genius brother.

"Donatello! You've never defied me in your whole life. Don't you start now!" he ordered curtly. "Snap out of it, Donnie!"

"You're wrong!" Raph appeared at his elbow, breathing heavily. Michelangelo was taunting Bishop now, threatening some important-looking equipment and samples, apparently buying them a moment to themselves.

"What do you mean?"

"He has so defied you. He made friends with those science guys. He's taken risks you told him not to. He doesn't do it like me, but he defies everybody, Leo. We all do. But Don ain't never given up on a fight before and he won't do it this time." Raph pushed the blue-banded turtle aside and gripped Don's shoulders tightly.

"What…?" Leo began.

"Donnie, listen," and Raph's voice was intense but soft. "I know you been through more than your share, but you gotta come through just a little more right now. Leo's right, you are stronger than the drugs. You're stronger than Bishop. Fight it, Don. If anybody can find his way back after all that, it's you, bro. Don't prove me wrong. We're right here, so you gotta come back to us. We gotta do this together."

For a moment, Don seemed to surface, and there was a familiar spark in the expression that met Raph's gaze before it sank into fog again. The beeping watch chirped shrilly, and Leonardo and Raphael exchanged glances. They were nearly late. If they didn't act, and soon, everything they'd planned would fall apart.

"Raph, give me two minutes. Buy it however you can. If I can't reach him, do whatever you've got to do." Leo sheathed his katana and pulled the unresisting Donatello off to one side, pushing him to sit down in a corner where they would be shielded from the fight.

"What are you gonna do, Leo?"

"I'm going to reach him the only way I can think of," and the strength of Leo's conviction forestalled even his angriest brother's objections. "You're in charge of making sure we get out of this one way or another."

"But Leo…"

"I trust you, Raph. Don trusts you. Trust yourself and do whatever you've got to do."

And without a backwards glance, Leo sat right next to Don, closed his eyes, and breathed out deeply. Raphael felt like smacking him, but instead turned back to where Mikey was now playing a risky game of catch with something that Bishop evidently cared enough about to treat delicately.

"All right. Plan's not blown, not yet. I'm gonna have to improvise a little," and he cracked his knuckles to prepare for round two, "but if Leo needs a few minutes, I think I know where to get them."

-==OOO==-

"They're late. We've got to get up there and help!" Elsie said, holding up her beeping watch. The second alarm had already passed and there was no word from Don. That meant something had gone wrong, probably very wrong or he'd at least have signaled them somehow.

"No. We must trust them to handle it and depart at once."

For a moment, four people stared at Monique, blinking. Randy found his voice first.

"Who are you and what have you done with Monique?"

"Do not stare at me. We must go."

"No, seriously," Elsie said, getting somewhat in Monique's face. "Where's the lecture about how we trust no one? About how they are just adolescent mutants and can't be counted on due to inexperience? About how all mutants are bad?"

"Age has nothing to do with competence," she turned away. "If anything, the turtles are more competent than certain members of this team."

"I heard that," Randy scowled.

"We trust the turtles because they have earned it. That is all." Monique looked across to Nick, who had surprisingly said nothing, only to see him grinning like a little boy who has just won a jackpot. "And stop that ridiculous smiling. This is purely logical."

"Oh, sure it is," he replied, winking, only infuriating the Frenchwoman further.

"So we're voting to trust them? Doesn't that mean we leave now?" Mendel wanted to know.

"Yes it does," and Nick was practically rocking back and forth on his feet with glee as he said it. "According to the plan, we're not even supposed to be here, so we better get going. Monique, lead the way."

Disgusted by his reaction, she turned away angrily, muttering in French under her breath and pointedly ignoring the mostly concealed giggles behind her. Really, these scientists were so unprofessional. Here they were, in enemy territory, debating the value of her perfectly reasonable response to solid evidence and a satisfactory strategy, and otherwise behaving like children. For a moment, Monique wished she had accompanied the turtles instead – surely their decorum would be more indicative of the situation at hand. But then she remembered Michelangelo and reconsidered.

"Perhaps I can form a team from the other three turtles and Nick," she thought to herself. "With the absence of certain other more unruly elements, we might be able to accomplish an objective without the commentary."

"Nice to see you've reconsidered, Monique," Nick said as he followed her waved instruction to move around a corner. The laugh was gone from his words, but was alive and well in his face.

"Perhaps not."

-==OOO==-

If there were some kind of ground to kick, Donatello would have kicked it out of sheer spite.

"Really? I finally get my brain back and Bishop has to go and drug me back to the happy Godzilla-shared-brain-land?" He wished he had something to throw. "This is getting ridiculous. The only possible benefit is I'm sure getting better at this whole out-of-body astral-projection thing."

A rumbling sense of agreement suddenly flooded through him, and Don felt the world tip and darken until he felt he was wrapped in stony seaweed. The presence around him was familiar, and as it grew and cradled him, he felt a thrill of fear to recognize it. This wasn't the clones he'd encountered before. This was Godzilla himself. And not just somewhat nearby – Donatello could feel himself being pulled into the mutant's mind completely.

"Um. Hi."

"Friend of parent. Friend of Nick."

"Yeah, I am," Don answered hesitantly. He was surprised Godzilla could speak, but then, given the craziness of his split consciousness, maybe this wasn't too unusual. "Why am I here?"

"Because I am here." The feeling that came with the response was emotional and visual more than verbal, but it was clear nonetheless. Don could sense an echo of the bond between Godzilla and Nick, and the apparent similarity, in Godzilla's opinion, anyway, to how it felt to now hear the turtle.

"You're saying I'm here because the implanted clone is actually bringing me close enough to your consciousness to serve as an actual psychic link?"

A flash of confusion as Godzilla "listened," then agreement once it was apparent the lizard had read his intent more than his words. Don noticed that Godzilla could communicate in words, but they were always inadequate to his complete meaning. Which also made perfect sense – Godzilla didn't have a language per se, but he understood images and feelings well enough.

"Okay. Does this mean I can talk to Nick?"

Denial, and then a fuzzy sort of sound, as if it were far away. Don smacked his forehead. "Of course not. I activated the sonic dampener. It's not hurting you, but it slows the brain function." A pause. Then, "So how am I here at all, then?"

Confusion. Don shrugged. He and Nick had tested to make sure that the frequency of the sonic dampener didn't totally cut off ability to reach Godzilla, though it would slow down the clones, so maybe having a clone hardwired into his own mind somehow made up the difference? It wasn't worth considering, really. Regardless of how, he was here.

"Now, how do I get back?" Don wondered. "Not that being in your head isn't neat, but I've got things to do." For a moment, the turtle felt himself sink even more deeply into Godzilla's mind, for an instant feeling the cool water, tasting the river, waiting near the island for his parent to call for him. Then it was gone.

"I'm glad you're here, anyway," the turtle confessed. "At least there's someone to talk to. But I really need to figure out a way out of here."

And Godzilla, listening intently, seemed to suggest something. It felt like "heal yourself" but with a more profound significance. Don started to dig around, parsing out the sensations, the images, even the sounds and smells that came with the thought. It took several tries, but he eventually settled onto something that seemed to fit.

"You think the G-cells that have been added to my body due to the clone can counteract Bishop's drug. But how long will it take? I can't sit around for hours for that stuff to clear out of my system."

A blast, then, of anger almost flatted the turtle before he could extricate himself from the deeper connection. The anger was not directed at him, but rather at a sense of wrongness. Sharing Godzilla's feelings, he had the urge to bite and claw at whatever was holding him back, making him weak.

"Your emotions trigger your healing's advanced speed!" he realized with a whoop of joy. "If I can get myself back to myself and push hard enough, you're probably right and it'll get eaten up in the adrenaline and the G-cells I've got now."

But that still left the question of how to go about it.

"Godzilla, you're still connected to Nick. Can you pull him in here? Maybe with his help…" He didn't even finish the thought before there was a violent, powerful force from within. Donatello lost what balance he had, feeling like he had been thrown into a washing machine of torrential emotion and power.

"Godzilla!" he cried out in alarm, feeling himself coming apart in the rush.

"Godzilla, stop it. I'm here." Nick's voice was clear and calm, and the connection was so strong Don realized Godzilla must have moved away from the warehouse to achieve it. A moment of looking and he could tell he was right – Godzilla's eyes still saw only underwater, but much deeper water.

"Nick?" he called hopefully.

"Don!" Nick materialized in the dark space effortlessly, obviously diving very deeply into his charge's mind. "How did you get here?"

"Bishop gave me something, made me really susceptible to suggestion. I guess it had a side-effect of pulling me in really deeply with the clone. If my brothers took out a bunch of the other clones, and if my sonic dampener is still turned on, maybe this was the only connection left."

"Interesting." Facing each other in Godzilla's mind, Nick found himself connecting to Don almost the way he did to Godzilla. He allowed himself to really look at the turtle, and to his surprise he found he could sense emotions, memories, even the slight numbness that came of the abuse his body had been put through and was still experiencing.

At the same time, he realized Don had identical access to himself, identical perceptions of his own feelings and thoughts. The turtle's eyes went wide as images flashed around them both, from their childhoods, from recent events, from hopes or dreams or ideas, getting so muddled it was hard to tell which belonged to which scientist.

"Don, I'm sorry," Nick began to retreat, realizing the breach in privacy. But a grasp as powerful as Godzilla's caught him before he could pull away.

"Don't. It doesn't matter. We've got to work together now. We've got to get me out of here before it's too late." Don blanched seeing some of his own secrets, including the inside of the lair, on display for Nick's curious mind, but he didn't back down. "Godzilla alone can't get me back there. I don't think he knows how."

"Neither do I," Nick put in.

"But I do," Don returned. "Look, what I need is a boost of power, I guess. I need you to push me in the right direction with enough fuel to get me there. After that, I think I can handle it."

"Donnie, what you're suggesting is incredibly dangerous. You don't know what you'd be going back to. If you're here, Bishop can't get at your thoughts, either. What if you go back and he's all ready to pump you for information. Or control you directly? You said you were susceptible to suggestion," Nick argued.

"Yeah, but I'm not alone there. My brothers are with me. Bishop won't have gotten me."

"How can you be sure?"

And then there was a burst of something so wordless it could only be understood when their minds were together in Godzilla's. Thousands of images and memories flooded in rapid succession through the space, of turtles rescuing each other, of being there for one another, of sacrificing everything for each other. Feelings of a love and trust and loyalty so fierce and potent it overwhelmed even Godzilla's otherwise non-intrusive place in their odd meeting, sweeping them all up and away. It was a bit like what Nick and Godzilla felt about each other, but profound in other ways, in the ways that come of being bound for years, of being able to communicate through more than emotions, but through the spirit itself. Nick reeled with it as it faded. It was as strong as even the worst rages Godzilla had put him through, but not at all frightening. Not at all.

"Um…sorry," Donatello would have blushed if he'd been physically present.

"Don't be. Ever," Nick returned. "Not for that. Not for your family like that. Never." He took a moment to steady himself, then settled. "Okay. I get it now. We'll give you a push. They'll catch you one way or another. I see it now."

"Thanks," Don breathed.

"Godzilla?" Nick reached out. He sank even more deeply into the mutant brain that was his own bonded kindred spirit until he could just keep himself from being overwhelmed. Godzilla seemed content to let him run things, so he spoke with the rumbling strength of them both. "We're going to push Don out of this bond and back to himself completely."

"Nick?" Don called, readying himself. He felt more than heard Nick's attention swing to him, and it was like that one moment of dizziness back at the lab days before – Nick and Godzilla were one, different sides of one mind. It was strange, but that didn't make it less true. "Be ready for anything," he warned.

Agreement, and trust, echoed.

And like a mountain bending in half, the force that was Godzilla's sheer power with Nick's stubborn control and focus collapsed onto Don's mind and crushed it through a rockslide. He was tossed, turned, forced into a tiny ball and stretched halfway to pieces, all the time rushing along a tightrope of tenuous connection. And then all at once, the force behind him fell away like a booster rocket pushing a spaceship, and Don was flying free.

His path started to wobble and waver, and Don felt the hurricane of the clone's presence springing up around him. He could feel himself slipping, falling back into the control of the implanted being, and he fought it with all his strength. He couldn't let it happen! He couldn't lose control again! His brothers were counting on him!

But the pull of the clone was powerful, and Don was exhausted suddenly, numb and lost. He began to slide from the trajectory he'd had, to fall into the darkness.

"Don, I got you!"

A pair of blue arms suddenly wrapped around him, and Don felt a forceful, familiar pull. He smiled and his energy, his focus, his blazing determination all came back in a rush.

Don opened his eyes to find himself knee-to-knee with Leonardo. His heart was racing with some intense emotions he couldn't quite describe, but his mind was clear and he wasn't shaking anymore. He met his older brother's worried expression with a satisfied grin.

"Thanks, Leo."

"Welcome back, bro."

As one, they stood, Don pleased to find that the physical effects of Bishop's drug were fading rapidly. Score one for Godzilla's G-cells, then. They looked to where Raphael and Michelangelo seemed bent on a campaign to simply break as much stuff as possible in the lab, thoroughly angering the usually implacable agent.

"Ready for the main event?" Leo asked, turning his attention back to his brother. Don quirked a trademark this-is-a-little-crazy-and-should-work-but-it'll-be-close-and-yet-fun smile at him and took back the offered controller with hands that didn't shake.

"Yup. Hey Bishop!" he called. "I know you're a fan of this game, but how about we change the rules!" And he slammed down the red button on the remote.

For a moment, nothing happened except Raph and Mikey, faces alight to see him on his feet, retreated to where Don and Leo waited. Then there was a low rumble from below.

Bishop's face fell as hard as the floor under his feet when the lower levels collapsed in on themselves.


	26. Repercussions

Bishop fought his way back to consciousness, aware at first of anger, and then pain. He forced a slab of wall off himself and pushed his way through a pile of debris, cataloging injuries (negligible), circumstances (impossible to tell due to limited visibility), and courses of action (more data necessary). At last he emerged from the shattered stone and steel and took a look at what had become of his lab after the explosion, cursing the turtles.

Somehow, without his noticing, those mutant freaks had managed to lay a significant set of charges all along one of the walls of the warehouse, not to mention beneath his very lab itself. The building looked as though it had been torn in half, one end open and gaping to the sky. Debris was everywhere, and anything that was not crushed or crumbling was on fire. Turning, his stomach churning in fury, Bishop looked to where his remaining clones had been in reserve in their holding containers and scowled darkly. The containers, those that weren't buried under wall and ceiling, were burning. He could hear the almost pitiful shrieks of the clones as they died, unable to escape.

"Shell, Donnie, when you throw a party, you really go all out, don't ya?"

Bishop turned to the voice, spotting the four terrapins somewhere between himself and the fallen-in wall. They looked relatively unharmed, though Michelangelo had obviously been hit by some falling piece of rock from the way a trickle of blood stood out in the ruddy light as it slid down his cheek. The agent felt rage and quickly quashed it. He was alive, and even if his work and most of his records were destroyed, not all was lost. Donatello still held his best sample, and there was always HEAT.

"I must say," he said, pulling himself to his feet and allowing a confident smirk to cross his features, "I am impressed. I did not expect such severity in your actions."

"Bishop!" Raphael snarled, drawing a sai and crouching. "How'd you crawl out from under that stuff?"

"And can you go back there and stay until, I dunno, forever?" Michelangelo added, grinning darkly.

"Not when there is still work to be done," Bishop said. He began to make his way towards the turtles, who, to their credit, wasted no words in preparing to engage him.

But before he could even get quite close enough to strike, a roar shook the very walls and a few more pieces of wall and ceiling tumbled down.

"You didn't think you could finish this game without inviting us, did you?" a voice called.

The turtles and Bishop all turned to see the five members of HEAT standing just outside the ruins of the building. And rising up behind them like a mountain from the sea, Godzilla stood, his nose quivering and his tail waving. The giant lizard bellowed again.

"Nick! What are you doing here?" Donatello demanded, calling to the man who led the way.

"I told you already. We're not just going to sit back and let you do this," he replied. "This is our fight, too, Don."

"It's too dangerous," Leo shouted, keeping a wary eye on Bishop but turning more attention to the HEAT members. "We'll handle this."

"We already let you blow up NIGEL," Mendel pouted. "You owe us at least a part of this."

"Bishop's our fight!" Raph snarled.

"You are incorrect. This man has endangered our team as well. He will answer for his actions," Monique met the turtles' glowers head-on.

"Besides, we've got this neat new trick we taught Godzilla to show you!" Randy rocked on his heels, for all the world cheerful and relaxed, but those who knew him better could see a line of tension in the hacker.

"Much as I'd like to stay around for this debate," Bishop said, realizing his chance had come, "I've got better things to do." The agent whipped out his phone, gratified to note it was still intact, and hit the button on the side that called for an immediate extraction. Then, intent to preserve at least a part of his experiment, he launched himself forward, heading straight for Donatello.

"Let's go!" Leo called, signaling his brothers forward.

Simultaneously, Elsie pulled a whistle out of her pocket and sounded it. Godzilla jerked at the sound, then stomped forward, ducking to fit into the newly-blasted hole in the warehouse's side. He roared again, bringing still more debris down on the five inside, including a significant beam that crashed onto his own head. The lizard bellowed in surprise and pain. He shook his enormous head and snarled.

Bishop and the turtles stared at the creature that now loomed practically right above them, seeing its eyes cloud in temper and discomfort. They were frozen, watching Godzilla look at the building in ire, and then he lashed out, roaring.

"Godzilla, no!"

"Godzilla, stop!"

"No, you can't!"

"Godzilla!"

"Look out!"

The voices of HEAT shouting were lost as Godzilla reacted instinctively, tearing at the building and slashing his tail against the fires that burned too close. Their position becoming precarious, the turtles fled to one side, vaguely aware of Bishop following in their wake.

"He's gonna bring the whole place down!" Raph called. "Do something!"

"We cannot!" Monique shouted back. "He's too uncontrollable!"

"Don!" Leo yelled. "Your device! You've gotta use it to stop him!"

"But…" the purple-banded turtle hesitated, his admiration for Godzilla clear in his face.

The moment of hesitation was their undoing. Bishop found a remaining tranquilizer gun not far from the slight shelter he'd taken and hefted it, aiming to hit the lizard someplace sensitive and hopefully bring him down before the creature brought down the building around them all. The shot was true and Godzilla roared in wordless rage. He turned his attention to the human and turtles cowering under a half-collapsed metal sheet.

"Look out!"

Raphael was moving before the warning cry from Elsie had even made it to them. As Godzilla's back flared in warning, the angriest turtle hurtled forward, pushing his brothers out of harm's way and down behind a thick pile of fallen concrete. But he was not quick enough to take firm cover himself. As the green flames burst in his direction, Raph did the only thing he could think of – he curled into a ball behind a sheet of metal. The blast hit the metal hard enough to send it, and the turtle it sheltered, flying across half the remains of the warehouse. The metal was nearly molten as it crashed into a wall, and Raph fell soundlessly, not moving.

"Raph!" Mikey cried out in terror.

Donatello, already running towards his fallen brother, pulled out the sonic disruptor and hit the button, setting up the familiar keening in the air. He jerked at the sudden pain as the clone in his own brain reacted to the sound, but he didn't stop moving until he was beside Raphael's still form.

Meanwhile, Godzilla flinched badly against the sound, scratching at his head with his claws as the noise bit into his mind. He cried out, spitting fire in every direction, but thankfully none of them came too near everyone else still in the warehouse. After a few moments, Godzilla turned and fled into the sea, only just managing not to stomp on HEAT on his way out.

"Is he okay?" Leo demanded, taking the momentary lull to grab Mikey and pull his youngest brother to where the resident medic crouched over Raph's form.

"It's not good," Don said softly, words echoing with a life of their own in the space. "We've got to get him out of here. I'm not sure if…" and he turned away.

"Pity," Bishop commented, picking his way through the ruins for anything worth retrieving. His helicopter would arrive in a few moments, but he could enjoy himself until then. "I suppose this round goes to you, nice team that you are." There was mockery in his tone, and Leo's eyes snapped.

"Team? Not after this! You!" he unsheathed a katana and stalked towards where the members of HEAT stood in wide-eyed silence before visibly bringing himself back under control. "We trusted you! We trusted that you could control Godzilla! But we should have known that nobody can control that thing!"

"Leo!" Mikey admonished. "It wasn't their fault!"

"No, it was mine for ever trusting them in the first place," he spat.

"Leo, you know we didn't…" Nick began.

"Save it!" he shouted. "Godzilla hurt Raph badly, Nick. Your pet mutant, on your orders. I can't forgive that, not ever. If he dies…" for a moment his eyes dimmed and he turned away.

"Guys, it wasn't supposed to happen like this," Mendel called hesitantly. "We were just trying to help."

"You weren't even supposed to be in here!" Don shouted back, and the gentlest turtle's voice was tinged with pain even as he was rapidly pulling a roll of gauze out of his ever-present bag and wrapping it around his brother's head, shielding him from the burning wreckage nearby. "If you'd stuck to the plan we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Dudes, calm down," Mikey begged.

"No!" Leo's voice snapped with absolute sharpness. "We never should have trusted you. You're just like him," and he jabbed a katana in Bishop's direction, who was watching the whole exchange with open amusement. "You just use mutants and experiment on us. You think you're trying to help, but somebody always gets hurt!"

"Leo, please," and there was real pleading in Elsie's voice.

"You have harmed my brothers enough, first Don with all your poking and prodding and now Raph. Godzilla can't be trusted and neither can you. We're done."

"You don't mean that!" Nick shouted. "You still need our help to fix the thing Bishop put in Don's head!"

"We'll handle it," Leo returned, the fire in his eyes uncannily like one of Raph's most common expressions. "We don't need you for that."

"You could always turn him over to me," Bishop offered smugly.

"Shut up!" Mikey yelled now. "You aren't ever going to get Don again!"

"And neither will you," Leo added, pointing a katana at HEAT again. "On my honor I swear that there is a debt unpaid between us for what you have done to my brother. If we ever see you again," and his voice dropped menacingly, "we will owe you dearly for this. And if he doesn't make it…" he trailed off.

"Leo!" Don was aghast.

"No. It's over. I've sworn it and that's all there is to it," the eldest turtle turned his back on HEAT and stalked over to where Don cradled Raph, now injecting something into an unmoving arm. "They got Raph hurt. They trusted Godzilla too much. I can't let you keep trusting them. I've given my word of honor that we will pay the debt we owe to them for this," and he gestured at the still turtle whose breathing was ominously slow. "Will you really defy me?"

Their gazes met for a few very tense seconds, but it was Don who dropped his eyes first.

"No, Leo. On my honor, I'll follow what you've sworn for us." He looked up at HEAT, and his face was torn with sadness. "I'm sorry."

"If your gratitude is measured in vengeance, I am sure we don't need it," Monique snapped, her own eyes sharp and angry. She looked a moment away from engaging Leonardo that minute and solving the issue of unpaid debts, but for Nick's restraining hand on her shoulder.

"For what it's worth, we're sorry, too."

"Don't be," Leo snapped. "Your concern is as worthless as his now." He gestured to Bishop who was still smirking.

"Nice to know I've got company in your list of undying feuds," he commented blithely. "But my ride has arrived and it's time to end this little drama. See you next time!" The helicopter overhead stirred up dust and debris until everyone not wearing battle-goggles had to cover their eyes. Bishop raced the last few yards to the outside, angling away from HEAT and catching the waiting ladder that hung from the chopper. Within moments he was being airlifted elsewhere.

"Leo…" Mikey began, putting a hand on the turtle's shaking shoulder. "Wasn't that a little extreme?"

"No, I don't think so. It was too little, too late." He looked back at HEAT, his own fury not undimmed even a little. "As thanks for the good from before, we'll let you go this time, since you did help us for a while. But if we ever see you again, it's blood between us."

"Don…" Nick said hesitantly. He started to move forward, but Michelangelo actually intercepted him.

"Don't. He gave his word to Leo. He can't." Then he gulped. "Neither should I."

"Don, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything," Nick said, his voice low. "I don't really understand how your code of honor works, but if there's ever any way we can be friends again…"

"There isn't," and Donatello's voice was heavy. "Leo's decided and it's my job to abide by it. Please, just let it go."

"Can't we even help you get Raph out of here?" Elsie wanted to know.

"Don't you touch him." Leonardo's rage was back. "We'll handle this. And pray he lives," he added, "or we'll be coming looking for you."

And a moment later, the three remaining turtles showed exactly how fast, strong, and silent they could be. Almost without a word, they shifted until they held Raph between them, jumped into the shadows cast by the collapsing building, and vanished.

HEAT stared at the spot for a few stunned moments before Randy at last turned to the others.

"So, what now? We just let them go? Do they really mean we can't be friends anymore?"

"Yes," Monique spat. "In their foolish anger they have sworn an oath, and though it is regrettable, it cannot be undone. Leonardo must mean his words or lose his honor, and he cannot do that. This is final, no matter our feelings on it. And good riddance. We need no such disloyal friends," she sneered.

"Monique," Elsie said warningly.

"No," Nick sighed. "She's right. We've got enough problems without the turtles. Don was a good guy, but if he's bound to it now, too, we'll just make them more angry if we try to keep up contact. We can't let ourselves remain allies anymore. And if Raph doesn't make it, we'll be enemies forever. We've got to let them go."

"Isn't there anything we can do to balance the scales?" Mendel wanted to know.

"Or at least get Bishop back for all this?" Randy waved his arms around, taking in the building as well as the losses and hurts they'd suffered so far. "Come on, jefe. Can't we get him back at all?"

"I'd rather not take the fight to him any time soon," Nick said measuredly, "but maybe we can finish what the turtles started here tonight." He pulled out a whistle of his own and blew it hard. A few moments later, Godzilla appeared, roaring. It took a little doing, but eventually the goal got through to the giant lizard and Godzilla thoroughly and completely demolished the warehouse until it was absolutely annihilated under his rage and power. Not one test tube, not one computer bank, not even a tranq gun survived the onslaught.

"Thanks, big guy," Nick said softly. Godzilla ignored him and went back to the soothing water, cool after the fire of the warehouse.

"Come on," Elsie added, a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

Nick couldn't help but look back at the broken warehouse sadly, thinking of what else lay broken in its remains, but he followed the urging of his team and turned away.

-==OOO==-

Bishop turned off the feed as HEAT vacated the area, finishing his report.

"It is unfortunate that the turtles have chosen to turn on this set of human allies. Though it further proves their danger to the human race in threatening a group allied with our own military, it also eliminates a potential weakness I could have exploited if needed. I have also lost this project in total except for the single clone in Donatello's brain, which, I have no doubt, will either kill him or he will find a way to remove. Nonetheless, certain useful conclusions come from this project.

"First and foremost, Godzilla is not a suitable base for my experiments. Even mixed with Donatello's mutation, he is unstable at best, difficult to control, and suffers from an easily-exploited weakness to certain auditory frequencies. If the turtles could find a way to shut down the clones so easily, so might an extraterrestrial threat. Godzilla is better left to the regular and useless military to handle.

"Second, HEAT, though rather brilliant in their own right, are not truly a threat to me and my work. They are content to focus upon mutations, and their combat skills, with the exception of that one woman, are not significant enough to warrant classification. If they had better control over Godzilla it would be a different matter, but as Godzilla will always be a loose cannon, they will have their hands full keeping him from destroying the city and dealing with other mutations. I'm closing the folder on HEAT and Godzilla at this point – neither are worth pursuing further.

"Finally, the turtles continue to be an intriguing and worthy goal for further study. If Raphael survives this encounter, they will be weakened for some time, perhaps providing an opportunity to reacquire them at a later date. If he does not, they will be significantly weakened permanently. My interest in Donatello remains strong, as he is still unique among the four of them, but I believe understanding their mutation more fully would be of value before I attempt to further graft their DNA into other subjects. This project will remain open as usual at this time."


	27. Band of Brothers

"How're you feeling?" Don leaned over Raph worriedly.

"Like I got hit by a truck," he grumbled, his word slurring together. He blinked in the light of the lair, finding himself on the couch, staring into the bright screen of Don's laptop.

"Hang on. The sedative is still wearing off. You'll feel better in a minute," he assured his brother.

"What happened?"

"Leo was totally crazy!" Mikey bounced nearby. "You should have seen him! I didn't even know he could get so scary-mad!"

"Well, all the times I've watched you do it," Leo appeared on the other side, looking down at Raphael fondly, "I guess we've all got that in us somewhere." He frowned. "Are you really okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the red-banded turtle replied, sitting up. "No permanent damage."

"Glad to hear it!" a new voice chorused. Raphael looked to the computer, an open video and audio feed revealing five familiar friends.

"You guys are way better actors that I thought," Mendel commented. "Then again, I was scared enough that it wasn't that hard to pretend!"

"Do you think it worked?" Elsie wanted to know.

"Yup!" Don smiled, an answering grin on Randy's face. "We checked the hacked feeds from earlier. Bishop got all of it, even the parts after he left, on one of his hidden cameras. It's a good thing we decided to hold it out until the end or the game would have been up."

"Yeah, but next time can you maybe make that giant scale-head breathe his fire a little, ya know, less?" Raph wanted to know. "I almost got fried!" He held up the bandaged arm that had taken something of a burn from the heated metal he'd used to protect himself.

"Hey, it was your idea to take the fall," Leo reminded him, giving him a hard poke. They shared a grin, remembering.

"_We have another problem," Leo turned back, crossing his arms as the conversation stilled. When all eyes were on him, he continued, "Bishop."_

"_Well, yeah," Randy said. "We know that already."_

"_No, I mean Bishop knows now that we've teamed up. Donnie might be able to prove that Godzilla isn't a useful weapon for him, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be used against us."_

"_You're saying he might drop his Godzilla plan but still use HEAT to get to us," Don sighed. "Or vice-versa. You're right. He probably will."_

"_I agree," Monique put in. "This is unavoidable, but dangerous. That man has enough hold over us all as it stands. To give him a lasting power is unacceptable."_

"_So, you're afraid he might kidnap us to get you to surface?" Mendel clarified._

"_Or, if he got his hands on one of the turtles again, use them as a ransom against us," Elsie added. "Either way is bad."_

"_I'll say," Nick agreed. "So what do we do about it? We can't undo what's been done."_

"_If he lays one hand on you guys just for trying to help us with Donnie…" Raph's rage began to leak. _

_Conversation began to swell as everybody voiced an opinion. In the ensuing threats, regrets for allowing the information to become known to Bishop, misplaced blame, and a fair amount of eye-rolling, Leo looked over at the brother around whom the whole mess rotated. Don's face was still paler than usual, and the noise was probably not helping his headache any, but he was alert, and if Leo was any judge, he was thinking. Even as he watched, Donnie's eyes lit up and his expression cleared. Before he could attempt to wade into the discussion, though, Leo stepped forward._

"_Don," he said, his voice cutting through the others as he again commanded attention. "What're you thinking?"_

"_Well," the genius began, hesitating only a moment when every head turned unexpectedly in his direction, "the problem is that Bishop thinks there's a connection between us, that we'd, you know, look after each other. That we're friends."_

"_Which we are," Nick said firmly._

"_Yeah! Mutants and mutant-friends of the world unite!" Mikey cheered._

"_Exactly. For as long as he thinks that either team would take a risk for the other, we're all in danger. So we have to convince him that we wouldn't."_

"_Uh, Don," Mendel put in, "that makes no sense. You can't just walk up to that guy and tell him we've decided to part company and think he'll believe you."_

"_Then we make him believe us." Leonardo smiled at his brother, following Don's thinking now. The purple-banded turtle smiled wearily back – everything was easier when he had some back-up on his crazy plans._

"_I have a bad feeling about this," Randy muttered. Elsie swatted his arm and shushed him._

"_Look, it's a long-shot, I know. But there's one thing Bishop doesn't know, can't know. Something he wouldn't even believe if he did know it. We can use that against him." Don stood up and started to pace, oblivious now to the various reactions around him. "Bishop doesn't know about the bond between Godzilla and Nick. It's our ace in the hole."_

"_So what are you sayin'?" Raph wanted to know, shifting his gaze from Don to Leo. _

"_Simple," Nick spoke before either turtle could, picking up the thread of the idea. "If we arrange for something to happen, something involving Godzilla, we could stage a split. Make it look like Godzilla did something bad to you guys, something unforgivable."_

"_Honor would demand you sever all ties and vow revenge should our paths meet again," Monique continued when Nick left off. "Bishop has studied you intently, and he knows your grudges are not to be taken lightly. If we could indeed fool him, he would witness an event which could only trigger an end to our connection."_

"_Yeah, but what exactly are you thinking the G-man would do to make you hate us?" Randy asked. _

"_Well, with their bond, Nick could work with Godzilla to make it look like he hurt one of us, really hurt us. We couldn't pretend he killed one of us, in case we tangle with Bishop again and nobody's dead. But with Nick in his head, Godzilla could probably do something nasty and Nick would keep it from actually, you know, being real." Don stopped pacing when he sensed something at his side. _

_Fiery turtle eyes met his own._

"_I know what you're thinkin', Donnie, and there ain't no way in shell it's gonna be you." Raphael crossed his arms._

"_Raph, think about it. I'm the logical…"_

"_I don't care about logic," he growled. "You've been through enough. You ain't takin' any risks on this one. What you already gotta do is bad already. If anybody's gonna play pincushion for Godzilla or something, it's gonna be me."_

"_Raph," Leo stepped forward, but the intense look in his brother's eyes gave him pause. This wasn't rage, nor a drive for revenge. What Leo read there in Raph's expression was instead something he knew all too well himself: the desperate need to protect their family._

"_I can't promise there won't be some risk involved," Nick said. "I can work with him, and I can get pretty far into his mind, but I just can't control everything. You really could get seriously hurt." _

"_Fine. As long as it's me and not Don." Raphael was like a mountain, refusing to budge. Donatello looked between Leo, Raph, and Nick, and then turned to see every other eye in the room on him as well._

"_You guys all agree with him?" he asked incredulously._

"_Actually, yeah," Mikey smiled. "If anybody's gonna get fried by Godzilla I wanna see it be Raph, and I think you've had enough spotlight lately." But behind the teasing grin was something else, something sincere._

"_Besides, we might need you for tactical support," Elsie pointed out. "You can't be playing dead and working tech at the same time."_

"_It is agreed," Monique said decisively. "The target will be Raphael, and the goal will be to make it appear that he has been severely hurt, perhaps possibly killed, by Godzilla's recklessness. Thus, our accord is broken, and Bishop will assume no goodwill between us."_

"_Are you sure about this, Raph?" Leo asked, returning his brother's intense gaze with one of his own. But Raph smiled jauntily. _

"_Oh yeah. Like Mikey said, it's my turn to play the pawn in Bishop's game. Wouldn't have it any other way."_

"And it was my job to keep him from hurting you. I'm sorry," Nick said, bringing them back to the moment.

"Don't sweat it," Raph shrugged. "Not that I wanna repeat it any time soon, but I seen worse. It's the side-effects of Donnie's doctoring that are the worst!"

"Hey! Without that, we'd never have made it look like your condition was deteriorating as convincingly," Don argued. "But really, Nick, you did everything we could have asked and more. Even with the sonic disruptor on you kept Godzilla from actually doing any damage to all of us throughout that whole thing. And now that I've been there, I can really appreciate how much that took!" He remembered vividly the times he'd been nearly lost in Godzilla's mind, more than once since his first visit to Staten Island, and he knew how hard it must have been to keep command of the giant lizard's actions through all that rage.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Donnie," Nick replied, smiling.

Indeed, it had been a very, very near thing. The plan had called for HEAT to appear on the scene, apparently unexpectedly, and to have Godzilla manufacture the split to protect them from Bishop, all without making it apparent to the agent exactly how much influence the humans had over the mutant. But when the moment came to attack, to actually spit the fire at Raph and yet not hurt him, it was among the hardest things Nick had ever done in his charge's mind. He'd had to drop so completely into Godzilla as to practically possess him, pushing all his control, his intent, into the chaotic, angry mind.

He'd always known Godzilla had impressive control over his fire-breathing, but it was only in that moment he understood exactly how much; with Nick's help, Godzilla was able to adjust his fire, bring down its temperature by several hundred degrees, and create the equivalent of blowing smoke shapes with his flames, striking the piece of metal (which had been delivered by NIGEL and was specially configured by Don) precisely enough to propel it forwards rather than incinerate it.

But even that wasn't the hardest part. When Raph crashed to the ground and Don activated the sonic disruptor in a "panic," Nick still had to maintain control. A secondary frequency had been adjusted specifically to hurt Godzilla on a sonic level, but not to incapacitate him psychically, and this was what Don had triggered. Nick had had to control his charge, keeping him lashing out in genuine rage, but carefully, without bringing down the warehouse until the scene had played itself out. The desire to attack the source of the painful noise had been nearly overwhelming, but Nick had persevered. The turtles had put their lives in his hands, or, rather, his mind, knowing that his control was all that would keep them from becoming the target of Godzilla's rage just as Bishop had back on the island during his sonic attack.

And the only way Nick had managed it, though he would never tell anyone, was by remembering the fierce love and trust he'd seen in Donatello minutes prior when they'd been joined in the mind of Godzilla. That bond of brotherhood was a stronger influence even then Godzilla's fury, and with that to ground him, Nick had commanded the giant lizard to behave according to what the plan required, and Godzilla had obeyed.

"So, if things worked as we think, Bishop figures we're all splitsville," Elsie smiled. "But what about your oath? You did say…"

Her words trailed off as many smiles bloomed.

"If you listened to what I actually said," Leo explained calmly and quite smugly, "you'll note I actually didn't specify exactly what 'debt' was owed. From context, it looks like I'm talking about paying you back for hurting Raph. But mostly I just talked about 'what you'd done' and that sort of thing."

"Yeah, and?" Mendel asked, not quite clear on the turtle's meaning.

"The oath stands, but its subject isn't what you think," Monique added. "Unless I am incorrect, what Leonardo has sworn is that, for our aid in helping Donatello and in manufacturing this parting for Bishop, the turtles owe us a great debt of gratitude."

"Exactly." Leo bowed formally. "On my honor and in the name of my clan, I confirm the oath I have made. We owe you a very great debt for your help and for your friendship in such trying times."

"But wait!" Randy piped up. "He said something about blood between us. I remember that!"

"Of course," Donatello smiled. "My blood is already between us, because we used it cure Godzilla. And my blood, maybe all of our blood, will get paid to you in the continuing study Nick and I will do as we keep working on the mutations that make Godzilla and us turtles the way we are. Not to mention that with Godzilla's clone in my head, we're kind of cousins or something now anyway."

"It was a pretty impressive performance," Nick nodded. "I'm not sure I could look so mad and be so precise with my wording."

"Well, if there's anybody who is good at lecturing when he's mad, it's Leo!" Mikey cheered.

"So, now that this has been handled, we may return to more pressing matters," Monique put in.

"You mean the clone in my head," Don's smile melted. "Yeah. We should do something about that."

"You started a formula," Mendel pointed out, "one to dissolve the clone without hurting you. We were working on it before everything happened earlier tonight." The roboticist took a moment to consider – yes, it really had only been tonight that Don had appeared, lost in the clone's control, and had almost killed Nick before Bishop's attack with the clones. HEAT was used to long nights, but this was kind of ridiculous.

"And Master Splinter is still meditating," Raph reminded them, "waiting for you to wake him up."

"Which I can't do until I'm sure Godzilla's thoughts won't influence me. But, now that I can think more clearly, and with everybody's help, I think we can probably make that formula work pretty quickly." Donatello turned to his brothers. "Leatherhead and April have been working on it all night, and with all our heads together, I think we can crack it. Besides, Godzilla gave me a hint."

"A hint?" Mikey asked.

"He said something about how his emotions fuel his healing, which means that adrenaline is a key component to the activation of the G-cells that make him so unique, and therefore make it so hard to for us to get his clone out of my brain. I think we can use that, find some kind of counter to my natural adrenaline production that will slow the clone's G-cells down a little, which should give us some kind of window into blasting it out of there chemically with less resistance."

"Okay. It's too dangerous for you to go over to HEAT's place right now, since Bishop is probably still watching it, but do whatever you've got to do. We'll stay here and relieve Casey from keeping an eye on Master Splinter. And as soon as you've got something, or if you need anything, just let us know, okay?"

Leo put a hand on his brother's shoulder. He looked closely into Don's eyes, watching for all the shadows that had chased themselves across his mind for days. But, though there was still a twinge of pain from the physical discomfort of a growth pressing inside the skull, Don's expression was clear. Master Splinter's interference was still holding the psychic influence of the clone at bay, and from what he'd said, Don had come to a certain understanding with Godzilla himself that seemed to help as well. Leo wasn't sure he'd ever know everything that had gone on inside his brilliant brother's mind in any sense throughout this ordeal, but whatever was happening there now was not going to hurt him much longer.

Don scooped up the laptop and made his way into his lab, already swapping ideas with HEAT as he walked. He balanced the laptop on one arm to push open the door, calling to April and Leatherhead about something or other, and vanished as completely into that world as he always had. Leo, Raph, and Mikey exchanged relieved smiles.

"Think it's gonna be okay now?" Raph asked.

"Yeah, I actually do," he answered. "Without Bishop breathing down our necks we've bought some time, and I don't think there's anything scientific that Don, Leatherhead, April, and those doctors can't figure out."

"Don could probably do it all by himself," Mikey said staunchly. "He's way smarter than everybody else."

"You ain't wrong, but you can't just say stuff like that," Raph's face twitched as he reached up to tug on the orange bandana-tails. "It ain't polite."

"Besides," Leo breathed easily for the first time in weeks, "it doesn't matter if he could do it on his own. Donnie's always been on his own with all the science and engineering and everything else, except when he lets Leatherhead and April in to help. But now he has HEAT, too, and he trusts them. I never doubted he could figure it out himself. But the point is that he doesn't have to be alone anymore."

-==OOO==-

Nick leaned on his habitual spot on the dock, looking out at the water and across to where buildings stretched to the sunset sky. It was his favorite part of the day, the orange light settling behind him, revealing a deepening shadow on the horizon that would steadily creep upwards until it engulfed the whole sky. From here he couldn't see the people leaving their offices and heading home, the cars and ferries that carried people from where they spent their time to where they kept their hearts, but he knew it was happening all over the city.

"Hey."

Without looking, Nick shifted slightly aside to make room for Elsie beside him.

"Nice night," she commented.

"Yeah."

A comfortable silence fell for several minutes before she spoke again.

"So, are you okay? You've been really," she searched for the word before settling on "quiet."

"Where were you when I was yelling at Randy for putting that rubber snake in the cooling coils of the new NIGEL?" Nick asked, grinning.

"Yeah, okay, I think they heard you in New Jersey on that one," she smiled back, "but that's not what I mean. You've been really thoughtful lately, ever since the night out on Lairdman Island. I just…wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Actually, yeah. I think I am." Nick looked back over the water and breathed. Somewhere he could feel Godzilla swimming. Their bond was strong as ever, maybe the strongest it had ever been, and yet in that new closeness there was an even easier measure of control and separation. From the moment Nick had started to seek Godzilla after Bishop's attack, he'd found the connection to be easier and easier to handle. They'd tested its boundaries and strengths in the last few weeks in ways he'd never imaged possible, and from that had come a settling of its intensity. Nick knew he could reach out without even trying and enter Godzilla's mind fully, practically become the big guy, and he also knew that Godzilla would not cross that line into his without invitation. It was more than a relief. It was comfortable.

"I'm glad. I thought for a little while there that we were gonna lose somebody. You, him," she nodded at the sea, "and Don. I think we were pretty lucky for how things came out."

"Well, some of it was luck," Nick conceded. "And yeah, we did come pretty close to getting lost a few times, all three of us. But more than anything else, I think we figured out just how unique they are. Godzilla. The turtles. That giant crocodile friend of theirs, too," and he grinned, remembering the first time HEAT had actually been introduced, via computer link, to the hulking mutant known as Leatherhead who looked like a monster and spoke like an Oxford professor.

"You, too, Nick. You're unique, too," Elsie added, gently slipping an arm through his. She, like Godzilla, wasn't intruding, just being there. Being part of him. As they all were.

"Maybe. But when we were linked for that short time, me and Godzilla and Don, we weren't unique at all. We were the same, split across three different minds and perspectives. I'm not exactly like Godzilla or Donatello, not cognitively, but at some level, the one that really matters, we really are the same. I can't speak for Don, but for me, that was a relief. I'm not alone and I know that," and he put a hand on Elsie's, "but it was nice to share that part of myself with someone for a little while, anyway."

"Do you think it'll ever happen again? That Don will get pulled into your minds?"

"No. Now that the clone has been fully dissolved, I don't think there's anything to connect us. Except," and he suddenly laughed. "Except that the first time I found Don in my head he didn't have the clone at all!"

"So…"

"So maybe you're right and someday he'll be back in there just poking around," Nick smiled wryly, not needing too much imagination to conceive of a day Donatello's curiosity might bring him knocking on those mental doors just to explore. "He's pretty remarkable."

"So are you, Nick."

"Yeah, we're all awesome," came Randy's voice, and three others appeared at the railing. "But I still think we beat those green dudes on the coolness scale."

"With all the time Don's spent in the lab recently it's weird not seeing him around anymore," Mendel ignored Randy with his usual sniff. "I keep expecting to see him appear out of the shadows."

"The turtles are wise to keep their distance for now," Monique said. "Eventually it may be safe enough for them to make their way here again, but they exercise reasonable caution in light of recent events. It is not a disappointment."

"You really got to like them eventually, didn't you, French fry?" Elsie teased. The woman at her other side tensed, then, surprisingly, laughed.

"Only as much as I like any troublesome scientists or hackers or other nuisances attached to my assignment," she offered. "I had thought there was nothing more trying than a certain rogue mutant and his annoying entourage, but the combination of both was unexpected at best."

"So now what, jefe?" Randy asked. "Don's all better, Bishop's gone into hiding, you and the G-man are back to whatever is normal for you. What's next?"

"Major Hicks sent me some photos of something off the waters near Seattle," Nick said. "Nothing urgent, but the navy's a little shaken up, so I told him we'd head out there later this week. I guess we go back to the usual."

"With the usual back-up?" Mendel suggested. "Of the giant, fire-breathing variety?"

"Of course."

"And others in reserve, just in case," Monique added firmly. The members of HEAT shared the knowing smile – she was right, of course. Whatever mess they got into, if it were truly a disaster and they were in over their heads, there was a team of teenage mutant ninjas waiting to repay a debt to them that would fight beside them at a moment's notice. HEAT could go back to their work and all would be as it was, but for one difference – they never had to work without help if they needed it again, the kind of help Hicks and the military could never provide.

"If we're heading to Seattle," Elsie broke the quiet, "we'd better start packing."

"Yeah, and make sure to leave room for the whole trunk of tissues Mendel will need from being allergic to something out there. Trees, rocks, rain. Are you allergic to rain?" Randy teased, easing away from the railing.

"As a matter of fact, no. But if you've got any cures for annoying computer geeks, I'd love to hear them." Mendel stalked past Randy, nose in the air, heading back into the building.

"Come," Monique turned to Elsie. "I wish to confirm that the tranquilizer compounds are correctly allocated."

"I've only reloaded those things a hundred times," the red-head returned. "It's not like I'm going to confuse the sleeping agents from the neural suppressants!" But she allowed herself to be led back inside as well.

Nick, alone again, watched the sky a moment longer, then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and dove. Almost at once he was deep underwater, his tail pushing against the current, chasing the secrets in the dark, finding the hidden snacks within the waves, hunting with grace and power and a fierce satisfaction. Godzilla mentally cradled his parent, and Nick allowed himself to be carried away, content knowing that he was exactly where he needed to be.

-==OOO==-

Godzilla opened one eye lazily. His underwater lair was quiet, but something had woken him. He instinctively searched for Nick, but his parent was asleep in the world above. It was not those feelings that had pulled him from sleep. To be sure all was safe, he flipped himself off the rock ledge and down into the water, patrolling his territory, seeking whatever threat might have roused him.

As he swam, he could feel the dreams in Nick's mind, feelings and images that leaked across when his parent was not keeping them separate. In these quiet times, Nick's mind relaxed and calm, Godzilla found it easy to draw his parent into the sea with him, pulling them close. Nick liked dreaming of it, Godzilla could feel it. It was good and safe in Godzilla's mind, and it helped them both understand each other.

And then there was a tug and a familiar presence appeared at the edge of Godzilla's mind. It was that other, not a parent, but still important somehow, that friend. Godzilla didn't understand the feeling exactly, but his parent did, and that was enough. The tug was enough to wake Nick from the sleeping state, but he stayed connected, reaching through Godzilla's mind to understand.

"Don?"

"Um, hi Nick. I just...uh...well, see, we were meditating, and I wondered if I could reach Godzilla on my own, and I did, so I figured I'd try to bring the others with me, too." The voice was sheepish and a little disappointed. "I got here, but they're not with me. I guess I need more practice."

"That's okay. Maybe next time. For now, would you like to see what it's like being Godzilla for a while?" Nick was amused and happy and a little excited, his heart brightening at the unexpected friend suddenly sharing the strange bond that so defined his life now.

"Definitely!" The warm hum of the response flooded the connection and, though a twinge of guilt remained, it was far outweighed by the obvious happiness.

Godzilla didn't understand the exchange entirely, but he could not miss the nudge from Nick to swim as hard and fast as he liked, hunting and playing as much as he wanted. Godzilla turned into the current with a burst of speed. His parent was happy to enjoy the water, and the friend who had somehow joined their bond was filled with interest and curiosity and excitement, all of which Godzilla did understand perfectly. As he dove deeper, sharing the thrill that his parent and the other one experienced with his movements, he felt himself snort in contentment. His parent was safe and happy. This other presence was welcome and interesting. Godzilla's territory was safe and there was no fear in any of their minds at all. And here came some food! Throwing himself into the chase, Godzilla trumpeted in triumph.

-==OOO==-

~ The End ~


End file.
